The Devil is in the Details
by Beeezie
Summary: All James Potter wants is a chance to fight a quintaped. All his girlfriend wants is for him to not die doing it. When his cousin is attacked investigating rumors of quintapeds on the coast, he knows one thing: he can't wait to graduate and join the fun.
1. Countdown: 50 days

Countdown: 50 days (or, In Which James Fails At Relationships)

James was very glad that he was so sure about what he wanted to do with his life.

It seemed like everyone else in his year was on the verge of a nervous breakdown because they were rapidly running out of time to figure it out.

He, on the other hand, was more relaxed than he'd ever been.

Well, all right, he was on the outs with Mari again, and that was certainly a little stressful, but all in all, he was feeling good about their upcoming N.E.W.T.s and life after Hogwarts. If Marion Thomas was a part of it, that would be great, but if she wasn't, he didn't plan to mope about it.

He was sure that they'd stay friends, at any rate, even if they broke it off for good. Who ended a seven-year long friendship over what basically just amounted to some philosophical differences?

When he entered the Great Hall, it was still fairly quiet. Apparently, the boys he shared his dormitory with were not the only ones taking advantage of the weekend and sleeping in.

Most of the Gryffindors had not yet ventured down to breakfast. However, he saw his brother sitting with their cousin Rose about halfway down the table.

"Hi, James," Albus said when he joined them.

Rose jerked her head toward Marion and their cousin Roxanne, who were chatting with each other further down the table. "Avoiding your problems?" she asked dryly. "Or did you not notice her glaring at you all through practice yesterday?"

James shrugged and served himself some food. "Not particularly."

His brother exchanged a look with Rose. "What was it this time?"

"She overreacted." James rolled his eyes. "All I was doing was talking about the last letter I got from V about how there have been a few sightings of what _might_ have been quintapeds on the Scottish coast."

"You're _kidding_ me," Albus exclaimed. "But they've never—" He stopped himself. "I think I can see where this is going."

"Well, she was saying that they were going to have to investigate it, and I expressed some slight envy to Marion, and she completely overreacted. I mean, of _course_ I know how dangerous they are." He grinned. "That's part of the fun."

"I hear that," Rose agreed heartily. She raised her goblet. He clinked it with his and turned to his brother.

"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider the whole auror thing?"

Albus shook his head. "No. And anyway, I wouldn't go into Dangerous Creatures—I might have to deal with you two every day for the rest of my life."

James reached over and ruffled his brother's hair. "You seem to do okay."

"My sanity is hanging on by a thread," Albus said dryly. "So you voiced a desire to face off against some very dangerous creatures, and your girlfriend got a little tense?"

"You're no fun," he muttered. "I really don't understand why, it's not like it should be news to her. She knows what I want to do."

"Yes," his brother said patiently, "but James, there's a difference between 'I want to join the Committee for the Control and Disposal of Dangerous Creatures' and 'I heard there were some highly dangerous monsters running around and my cousin Victoire is probably going to go fight them. What? Oh, no, I'm not worried about her, I'm just jealous because nothing would please me better than almost getting my throat ripped out!'"

"What's wrong with that?" James demanded. "Come on, Al, don't tell me you're taking her side."

Albus groaned. "I'm _not_ taking her side. I just think that sooner or later, you're actually going to have to _deal_ with the fact that she's uncomfortable rather than charming her out of being angry."

"She'll come around," James said dismissively. "Charlotte did for Dominique."

"Why am _I_ the one without a girlfriend, again?" Albus asked.

"They've forgotten that you _are_ the sane one," Rose commented distractedly. When James and Albus had started talking about his difficulties with Marion, she'd buried herself in her copy of the _Daily Prophet._ James could see just enough of the page to know that she was looking up Quidditch results.

"Clearly." Albus leaned over to examine the page.

"Also, you keep turning girls down because they're not good enough for you," James pointed out, running a hand through his hair.

Rather than acknowledge what he had said, Albus changed the subject. "Oh, good, the Harpies did beat Portree! I was worried."

Rose threw the paper down, looking disgusted. "Less good news for us," she told James. "Hammered by the Falcons."

He groaned. "Roxanne is going to rub our noses in that." He glanced up the table, and then lowered his voice to ask, "How did Puddlemere United do?"

Albus rolled his eyes as Rose looked back down at the paper. "They beat the Tornados. Why?"

"No reason," James said airily, glancing out a window. "Good flying conditions today."

"Do you have a practice scheduled?" Albus had taken the paper from Rose and was scanning the rankings.

He shook his head. "No, tomorrow. Practice yesterday afternoon was hard, especially with the rain, so I'm giving them today off."

"Thanks ever so, fearless leader," Rose murmured. He rolled his eyes at her, and she stuck out her tongue.

After they had finished eating, Albus said, "James, you should talk to Marion."

James looked up from his empty plate, forcing an expression of innocence onto his face. "What do you mean?"

"You keep sneaking glances at her." His brother laughed. "Come on. I'm not stupid, and I know you. Go patch things up with Marion. I need your help with Goldstein's assignment later and you're just going to be distracted if you don't."

James jerked back. "Will not!"

Albus gave him a skeptical look. "Just go."

"Later." He pushed his plate away. It hadn't even been a day yet, and he was damned if he was going to go running to her to patch things up _that_ quickly. If she wanted to, she could come to him.

It wasn't that he didn't care about her or about patching things up. He did. He just wasn't the type to go crawling around begging anyone to forgive him, especially when he hadn't done anything wrong.

Which was really the crux of it. He didn't feel like he _had_ done anything wrong. He probably could have been a little more tactful, but at the same time, Mari was one of his best friends, and they'd been going out for over a year. James didn't see why he _should_ have to be tactful about what he wanted to do with his life. The end of their seventh year was fast approaching. If she couldn't deal with him _talking_ about fighting dangerous creatures, how on earth did she expect to deal with him _doing_ it? She had to know that he wasn't about to change his mind.

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Knut for your thoughts?" He looked up and saw both Rose and Albus looking at him quizzically.

"They're worth at least a sickle," he told them. "Since there are two of you, maybe even a galleon."

"One sickle plus one sickle equals a galleon, now?" asked his brother.

"I said at least a sickle. The price went up."

"Sickle for your thoughts, then?" Rose amended. "And I'm not going to pay you."

He grinned. "If I could get my family to pay me every time I shared a thought with them—"

"We'd be poor, and you'd talk too much," Albus said, cutting him off. "Spill."

James glanced down the table, where Marion and Roxanne were still sitting, and lowered his voice. "It's just that I don't know if it's worth patching up."

His brother's eyebrows shot up. _"What?"_

Rose's reaction, however, was much more measured. "I was wondering whether you were starting to think about that."

Albus looked from James to her to James again. "Are you joking?"

James shrugged. "Not particularly."

"But you _adore_ Marion," Albus said.

"True."

"And you're just going to throw that away because she doesn't like your career choice?" Al asked incredulously.

"Albus, that's not a minor concern," Rose said impatiently. "If she can't deal with what he _wants_ to do, how is she going to deal with it when he's _doing_ it? It doesn't matter how much he likes her, if she can't cope then they won't be happy." James raised his eyebrows at her, and she gave a sheepish grin. "You're not the only one who's been thinking about that."

Albus gave a disgusted snort. "Do I have to make myself available to my best friend because you have imminent plans to break his heart?" he asked sarcastically.

"No," Rose said calmly. "It's just something I've been thinking about. _And_ it's something we've talked about," she said pointedly.

"You're both insane," Albus said. "All of you. You're with someone you care about, find a way to make it work."

"It's not that easy," James and Rose said at the same time.

Albus sighed. "You're all insane. It's no wonder I can't find anyone."

"Right, it has nothing to do with the fact that you keep turning down girls who ask you out because they aren't good enough for you," James said again.

His brother didn't acknowledge the statement this time, either. "James, just talk to her."

"Eventually."

When they left the Great Hall a few minutes later, Albus and Rose decided to go down to the lake to meet a few of their friends, so James returned to the common room alone. He knew that after hours on a broom tomorrow, the very last thing he would want to do was schoolwork, and he had a herbology essay for Longbottom that he suspected would take hours to write.

He was right. Writing about the proper ways to care for, pick, and store fluxweed – and everything that could go wrong – was thoroughly tedious.

People trickled downstairs throughout the morning. Most went outside to enjoy the good day, but many of his fellow seventh-years were also settled at tables or chairs around the room either completing their schoolwork or studying for N.E.W.T.s. When a group of fourth-years tried to start a game of exploding snap, they were shushed so vehemently that they immediately left the common room altogether.

James found this atmosphere to be deeply depressing. He was tempted to set off a few firecrackers just to liven up the mood a little—his yearmates were taking N.E.W.T.s far too seriously, in his opinion.

Just as he was seriously contemplating going upstairs to get them, however, Roxanne slid into the seat across from him. "I wouldn't, if I were you."

He widened his eyes innocently. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm tempted, too," she admitted quietly, tapping her fingers on the table. "It's too _quiet_ in here. But they won't be any fun about it."

"You're probably right." James threw down his quill in frustration.

"What were you thinking of doing, firecrackers?" she asked. He nodded, and she grinned. "I was, too. I made a joke about it to Caroline and Bethany, and they looked at me as though I'd suggested killing their very favorite pets."

"Well, they need to loosen up." He looked back at his essay in disgust. "I'm not even half-done. I can't work in these conditions."

Roxanne peered at his paper. "Have you been working on Longbottom's essay since breakfast?" He nodded, and she sighed, too. "I thought it might take hours to write. I'd better start it."

James shrugged. "Probably," he said half-heartedly.

She leaned down and pulled parchment, a quill, and ink out of her bag. "Cheer up. Hey, maybe we should turn Malfoy's hair red again, that should be amusing. We haven't done that in weeks."

"We were _away_ for one of those weeks."

"True," she granted. "But we had opportunities over break, and we didn't take them, did we?"

"Nah, we didn't," he said. "Mum and Dad would have killed me if I'd started jinxing a guest in our house, even if he wasn't _my_ guest. Anyway, I think he's getting tired of it. Next time, he might turn my hair green or something."

"Not likely." Roxanne reached out and tapped the coin James always wore on a thick cord around his wrist.

He grinned. "I don't see why he doesn't get one, too. He'd never have to walk around with strangely-colored hair again."

"He probably thinks that Fred would sell him a dud that wouldn't shield him at all," she said wisely. "Or worse."

"Would he?" James asked curiously.

"No, Dad would kill him for selling faulty merchandise to a customer. Come on, we can turn it blue."

He felt slightly cheered. "All right. Let's finish Longbottom's essay first. We still have Goldstein's to do, too, and you know that we're not going to want to do it tomorrow after we've been practicing all day."

"You make too much sense," she told him as she put her quill to the parchment.

"You'd be saying it if I wasn't," he pointed out.

"I make too much sense, too."

An hour later, James was nearly finished, and Roxanne had made what she called "significant progress" despite looking out the window longingly every few minutes. "Let's take a break and get some lunch," she suggested.

"Yeah, okay," he said, putting his quill down and stretching. "Have I mentioned that I hate N.E.W.T.s?"

"No you don't," she said. "I do, though, I haven't had time to go after anyone lately, and so many people have deserved it."

"So Abigail Madley's books kept disappearing last week for no reason?" he asked.

"Yes. Just like Sullivan Pickering just happened to wind up locked in a broom closet when he was patrolling the other night."

"Oh, he deserved it, you know how he's always going on and acting like a prefect badge makes him so much better than the rest of us," James said dismissively.

"He does," Roxanne agreed. "Just like Abigail Madley takes being head girl way too seriously. I liked Evy Greengrass much better."

James grinned as they exited the portrait hole. "I'm starving."

"So am I," she said. "Hey, did you see that the Falcons hammered the Arrows?"

He groaned. "I really hate you."

"Nah, you don't. So, what color should we turn Malfoy's hair?"

"I'm thinking red. It looks so terrible."

"We could take pity on him and turn it green," she said, considering.

James spotted his sister on the next flight of stairs. "Hey, Lily!" She looked up, and he asked, "Red or green?"

She grinned. "Sooner or later Al's going to write home complaining and you'll get another howler."

He hadn't considered that. "Excellent, I haven't had one in over a month. People must think that I'm losing my touch. Red or green?"

"Red." She continued on down the stairs, and James laughed. He probably _was_ going to get a howler over this, but he didn't especially care.

James did not actually dislike Scorpius Malfoy, at least now that Scorpius had stopped whining about how obnoxious James was.

He had, of course; he disliked Slytherins on general principle. Albus had been friends with Scorpius since starting at Hogwarts, but Al was friends with a lot of strange people James would never in a million years consider actually talking to. Or even acknowledging, really.

Things change.

Scorpius was far from James's favorite person in the world, but he was all right. Now that he wasn't walking around accusing Gryffindors who _weren't_ Albus and a few of their yearmates of being arrogant and self-satisfied.

That didn't stop James from turning his hair amusing colors, of course.

Ten minutes later, Scorpius Malfoy was examining his distorted reflection in a suit of armor that stood outside the Great Hall. After a moment, he turned back to James and rolled his eyes. "You're hilarious," he said dryly. "Don't you get tired of this?"

James smirked. "Not particularly."

Scorpius shook his head. "Has any told you that you're very irritating?"

"Many people," James said cheerfully. "It's been weeks, you should really be thanking me."

"Yes. Because your father would have been so amused at you jinxing a guest in your house." Scorpius leaned against the wall. "Why don't you try it this summer? That should be amusing."

"Nah. Dad would kill me."

Roxanne appeared at his shoulder. "Oh, good, you found him."

"Yes, he did." Scorpius looked back at the suit of armor. "Why did you have to do _red?_ It looks terrible. I _hate_ it when you do red."

"Why haven't you gotten a shield charm in Hogsmeade, then?" Roxanne asked curiously.

"Your brother would probably just sell me a dud," Scorpius said. "I don't feel inclined to waste the money."

Roxanne elbowed James. "Told you so."

"Don't you have anything better to do, with your N.E.W.T.s coming up?" Scorpius asked. "I heard Pickering and Madley had some trouble this week, and I _know_ Flint did, he stumbled into the common room the other night with boils all over his face."

James and Roxanne looked at each other. "Did you do Flint?" he asked.

She shook her head, looking perplexed.

James had a sneaking suspicion that his sister had had something to do with it, and resolved to talk to Lily later that night. He looked back at Scorpius. "They all deserved it, anyway."

Scorpius shrugged. "Well, yeah," he acknowledged. "Pickering and Madley take themselves too seriously, and Flint's just a nasty piece of work. Remember the time last year he tried to curse my nose off?"

"We helped you there," James pointed out.

"Out of the goodness of our hearts," Roxanne agreed, touching her hand to her chest.

"This really does look terrible," Scorpius said, examining his hair again with a look of disgust. "Your heart's on the other side," he added distractedly to Roxanne.

"Not on me, it isn't," she told him. He gave her a somewhat bemused look.

"At any rate, isn't a nose worth the occasional week of strangely-colored hair?" James asked.

Scorpius shrugged again. "Sure, if I thought I had to choose one or the other. As it happens, I don't. How _do_ you find the time?"

James shrugged, too, feeling supremely unconcerned. "I'm not worried about N.E.W.T.s. I'll do fine. Why should I bother studying too much? It would ruin all the fun."

"Right." Scorpius smoothed back his hair. "This has been a great little chat. Thanks for the hair. I'm sure my girlfriend will really appreciate it."

"She'll just be amused," James called after him. "She always is."

Scorpius turned around and called back sarcastically, "Sure, right, she loves it, because she'd prefer my physical appearance to be more amusing than attractive. Just don't be shocked if your brother isn't the only one irritated at you."

James turned to Roxanne, who was staring after Scorpius with a sour expression on face. "Git."

"Yeah, well." He wasn't especially concerned with whether or not Scorpius Malfoy was a git. "Do you really think she'll be annoyed at us?"

"Nah. Come on, let's go eat, I'm starving." Roxanne skipped into the Great Hall. After a moment, James followed her.

As he neared the Gryffindor table, he saw Marion sitting with Rose and Tyler Jordan. Rose caught sight of him, and raised her eyebrows as she gestured toward her hair. He smirked and joined Roxanne, who was already serving herself lunch.

"You really should make up with her, you know," she said.

James ran a hand through his hair and resisted looking down the table. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar." She was apparently content to let the subject drop, however, because after she'd had several bites of her pie, she said, "The Falcons killed the Arrows."

"You've mentioned, and I saw," he said shortly.

"We could always talk about your disintegrating relationship with Marion," she offered.

"There _are_ other things to talk about."

"Have it your way, then." They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Roxanne burst out, "I just don't understand. You two are perfect together."

"Sure we are. Other than the fact that she can't handle what I want to do with my life," he said sarcastically. "And you lot should stop meddling."

"Who else has been meddling?" she asked.

"Albus." James threw his fork down. "You know, just because neither of you seem able to find someone good enough for you doesn't mean it's your job to fix this."

Roxanne was clearly not deterred by what had really _meant_ to be a bit of a low blow. "Oh, I know it's not my job," she said cheerfully. "It's just something I'm willing to do. Out of the goodness of my heart."

"I'm going to turn _your_ hair green next," he threatened, picking his fork back up. "Go fix Rosie's relationship."

"Good luck," she said, still cheerful. "And I don't care about fixing Rose's relationship. I like Marion. I still don't like him. Why, is their relationship in trouble?"

"Leave me alone." James ran a hand through his hair. "I'll make you pay tomorrow at practice if you don't."

"You're no fun," she muttered.

He suspected that was not the end of it, and had his suspicions confirmed when they began to ascend the stairs that would lead them back to the common room and the pile of schoolwork awaiting them.

"Hey, Marion!"

James saw his girlfriend a flight above them and groaned. "What did I _just_ tell you?" he muttered to his cousin.

"I forgot," she said innocently. "Too many bludgers to the head." She called up to Marion, "How are you doing on Longbottom's essay?"

Marion waited for them to reach her. "I'm almost done," she said when they'd reached her. "Hi, James."

He felt his stomach turn over, and was a little disgusted with himself for it.

"Ugh, I still have another hour at least," Roxanne moaned. She bounded up the stairs after Tyler Jordan in what James felt was a very transparent attempt to get him to talk to Marion.

Marion clearly felt the same way. "Roxanne has the subtlety of a bludger," she murmured.

"She does," he agreed, and started back up the stairs. He heard her give an exasperated sigh and turned around. "What?" he asked.

She was standing a few steps below him with her arms crossed. "James, we should talk."

He felt his stomach give another unpleasant twinge. Whatever he had said to Albus, he really didn't want his relationship with Marion to be over, and he had the feeling that whatever she wanted to say would involve that.

And if she did that, the team dynamic would be thrown off. They'd lose the Cup. He didn't want to lose the Cup. He'd never failed to win the Cup. He wanted to keep his perfect record. It was a very good record.

"About what?" he asked dismissively.

Marion shook her head. "Fine," she said disgustedly, and brushed past him on her way up the stairs.

James sighed. "Wait," he said. To her credit, she stopped and turned around. He wasn't sure he would have. Then again, there was a reason he wasn't dating anyone remotely like him. "We should. I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "That's a start, anyway. Come on." He followed her back up the stairs, feeling vaguely irritated with the entire situation and wishing that she would just be okay with his choice of career rather than break up with him over it. After a moment, however, she slowed down to allow him to catch up, and took hold of his hand tentatively. "I'm not planning to break up with you, you know," she told him.

"I didn't, actually," he said, feeling slightly cheered. "I don't especially want to break up with you, either."

"That's always good to hear. Dumbledore's Army," she said to the Fat Lady. The portrait swung up, and she made her way through the quiet common room toward the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

"I thought you said we needed to _talk_," he quipped, and she gave him a withering look.

"You're so funny."

James ran a hand through his hair. "I know I am." He opened the door to his dormitory and flopped onto his bed. "What do we have to talk about?" She was starting to look thoroughly irritated, and he held up a hand. "No, really. What is there to say?"

Marion bit her lip, and then said, very slowly, "James… I understand that love adrenaline and that you enjoy dangerous situations and all of that." He opened his mouth, and she quickly said, "Will you please just shut up and let me talk?"

He closed his mouth.

"Thank you." She rubbed her forehead. "I get that. I do. I get that you want to go off and get bloody and lose limbs and laugh with Victoire and Rose about how you almost died yesterday and gave your Healer friends heart attacks when you turned up in St. Mungo's."

"That an exaggeration," he protested.

"Really? Why can you see thestrals?"

James didn't even try to hold her gaze. "That was different."

"It's always different." she held up her hand. "No, I don't want to argue about this right now. Look, I get that, and I'm trying to be okay with it, I really am." He didn't say anything, but the skepticism must have showed on his face, because she added hotly, "I've been talking to Charlotte about how she deals with Dominique running off and getting roasted alive by dragons."

"You have?" That was the first he'd heard of it.

"Yes," she said patiently. "I have. I do actually care about you, and I am actually committed to this relationship."

"And I'm not?"

"That's not what I mean. I know you are. But I don't test you the same way you test me."

"I'm not _trying_—" he started to say hotly, and she cut him off.

"James, I _know_ you aren't. But you still push me in ways I _never_ push you."

"I don't get bothered as easily as you, either."

They stared at each other for a minute, and then Marion took a deep breath and plunged on. "I'm trying to be okay with all of this, and when you start going on about how much fun it would be to risk _dying,_ yeah, it freaks me out a little, because I know that you actually mean it and I'd really prefer not to hear in four years that the man I'm in love with has been killed by, by a lethifold or something!"

"A lethifold couldn't take me," he scoffed.

"That's not the point, and you know it," she snapped.

James sighed. "I know it's not. Look, Mari, this is just who I am. I'm not changing it for anyone. Not even you."

"I don't expect you to. I'm just asking that you not rub my nose in the fact that you don't really care about the people who would miss you if you died."

"I care," he protested, feeling that this really wasn't fair. "I just don't have the energy to get too worked up over it."

She sighed. "Is it too much to ask you not to rub my nose in it?"

"Not to be difficult or anything, but, well, yeah." He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Mari, I get that this makes you uncomfortable, but at the same time, I don't want to feel like I have to watch what I say because you're going to get upset at me. I shouldn't _have_ to censor myself around you." Marion opened her mouth, and he shook his head. "No, now it's my turn. If the only way you can deal with who I am as a person is if I walk on eggshells about it, then neither of is ever going to be happy. We _both_ deserve better than that."

"Then where does that leave us?"

He shrugged. "You tell me."

She stared at him for a minute and then said, "You know, James, sometimes I really hate you."

"Because I'm not well-suited to you at all but am so charming and good-looking and generally terrific that you find me irresistible anyway?" he asked, running a hand through his hair and hoping that it looked messier. "I would hate me, too. I'm sorry I'm so terrific."

He half-expected her to smack him, but instead, she flopped down next to him. He put his arm around her, and she sighed. "We're not going to be able to work this out, are we?"

"Who knows?" He thought for a minute, and then added, "Dominique and Charlotte did, and you're a lot more fun than Charlotte is."

"You're also not part-veela," Marion pointed out.

"I'm still so attractive I'm practically illegal."

"My hormones are also a lot more under control than Charlotte's are," she said dryly.

"Are they?" James asked interestedly. "I wasn't aware of that. They certainly don't seem under control."

"Neither are yours." She glanced up at him.

"No," he agreed. "I'm eighteen, and I have a very attractive girlfriend. Of course they aren't. Look, Mari, I don't actually _want_ to die. That would take the fun out of life. I just think that doing dangerous things that _might _kill me can be fun."

"That's reassuring."

"Oh, come on." He sat up. "Are you really going to break up with me because of something I _haven't_ changed about myself? I've been like this since you met me. You _knew_ what you were getting into."

Marion sighed again. James felt that she was doing an awful lot of sighing, and it had never been his experience that sighing led to particularly good things. "It was against my better judgment."

"Right. Because I'm so amazing and attractive."

She stared at him for a minute before saying, "James, you are the absolute worst person in the world to go out with." He must have looked wounded, because after a moment, she said, "No, that isn't true. Dominique is definitely worse."

James ran a hand through his hair again. "Yeah, she is. I love her, but she is."

"Regardless. Top ten." She looked out the window. "What _are_ you willing to do to work this out?" she asked, still not looking at him.

"I dunno." He frowned, mulling it over. "Would feeling like I was competent at what I wanted to do help?"

"I already know that you're the best in the year at defense against the dark arts," she said quickly. "That's not—"

"No, I mean, really." He grinned.

James could see a spark of alarm in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"We could go into the Forbidden Forest and find the acrumantulas and make it out alive," he suggested.

Marion blinked several times, clearly processing what he had said. "So you're telling me that you want to prove to me that it's not really that bad by dragging me along with you?"

He laughed. "Oh, it's not so bad. Roxanne and I stumbled across then in our third year."

"I didn't know that." She swallowed hard. "What exactly were you looking for in that part of the forest? It has to be fairly deep in."

"Acrumantulas," he said simply.

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind." She tugged at his shirt. "Lay back down."

James fell back onto his pillow. "That was a lot of fun."

"Of course it was," she said sarcastically. "I'll think about it. _Not_ the acrumantulas."

"All right, then." He made to get up. "We should get our work done before tomorrow. Practice is going to be exhausting."

"Of course it is," Marion muttered as she caught his wrist. "Let's stay up here a little longer. Or is being alone with your girlfriend in the privacy of your dormitory not exciting enough for you?"

"No," he said, allowing her to pull him back down. "It's plenty exciting."

* * *

><p><strong>As will be clear to any of my old readers, these are the same characters that were in my last fic. Dominique is probably next. I've grown rather attached to these characters (and hopefully, you have too).<strong>

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**I'm currently planning to update this fic every Wednesday night (EST).** **As always, I appreciate reviews—they help me know what I'm doing right (or not), and if I have a lot of them, they encourage other people to read the fic, too. So thank you in advance if you do!**

** - Beeezie**


	2. Countdown: 47 days

Countdown: 47 days (or, James Would Really Love to Fight Monsters Now, Part 1)

James usually took advantage of his free afternoon on Tuesday to spend time with Marion or sneak into the village to see his cousin Fred at the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Today, however, he had an appointment with Professor Longbottom to discuss his post-Hogwarts plans.

The door to the office was open when he reached it, and Longbottom was bending over what James recognized as aconite. When he knocked on the open door, Longbottom looked up.

"Hello, James. Come in." He backed away from the table, which was strewn with potted plants, and settled himself behind his desk. "You're still decided on Beast Division?"

"Yes, sir." James closed the door behind him before sitting down. "I heard from a little bird that Beast Division is where all the fun is at. That cinched it."

Longbottom opened the folder laying on his desk and flipped through it. "I don't see anything in your recent marks that should be a problem with that. Defense Against the Dark Arts is obviously the most important subject for the field, and Professor Goldstein has nothing but good things to say about you." He flipped through a couple pages. "Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions… all high marks." He closed the folder. "And, while I don't believe that you actually require Herbology for that field, your work in my class continues to be exceptional." He leaned back. "And all of that with Quidditch and frequent, illegal visits to Hogsmeade."

James felt his face get hot. "Madam Abbott told you, huh?"

"Hannah told me, yes." Longbottom laughed. "Let me guess. You've been using your father's old invisibility cloak."

James hesitated, but Neville Longbottom's reaction did not seem to indicate that he was about to place James in detention. "Yes. If you knew, why didn't you…"

"Give you detention?" Longbottom shook his head. "I typically don't put students in detention for breaking rules that I couldn't manage to follow when _I_ was a student."

"_You_ snuck into Hogsmeade?"

Longbottom just smiled. "It also seems somewhat unsporting to put you in detention based in part on information I only have because I've been friends with your parents since we were in school. But since you'll be graduating in less than two months, I thought I'd call you on it now." He leaned back. "Did you use the cloak to sneak into the Forest to find the acromantulas, or did you manage that without it?"

"How do you know about _that?" _James asked, astonished.

"When I asked the class last year about how best to obtain acromantula venom, you answered the question in a way that was a bit too specific to be something you simply learned out of a book." He shook his head. "Why can you really see thestrals, by the way?"

James sighed. He and Rose had both ultimately come up with what they both felt was a plausible cover story, which was that when they were in St. Mungo's visiting Victoire, they were wandering around the halls and happened to witness another patient dying. Apparently, that wasn't going to be enough here. He supposed that he shouldn't be too surprised: they'd known that sooner or later, someone would see through it.

"I was up late doing work, and I saw several professors outside talking to a few centaurs. I was curious, so I went outside. I heard one of the centaurs telling McGonagall that there was a massive migration of Mountain Trolls to the Forbidden Forest, and how a few centaurs had even been killed. So when Ministry officials arrived to help a few days later, I followed them into the Forest. I saw one of them get his head bashed in by a troll, and another tore a centaur's head off her body."

Longbottom closed his eyes. "I remember," he said tiredly. "I'm surprised the you weren't killed. That was a nightmare."

"Well, I almost was," James admitted. "One of the trolls went after a centaur, and I used the reductor curse on its club before it could hit her. She was a baby," he added defensively. "I _couldn't_ just do nothing. But the troll heard me, and it went for me, and I ran for it. Just before it caught me, a few centaurs managed to bring it down. So I stayed there until everyone else had left, and then made my way back to the castle."

That was essentially the truth. He'd left Rose out because it wasn't his place to rat her out. He'd also neglected to mention the conversation they'd had with the centaurs after the battle; he wasn't going to be held responsible for some kind of diplomatic breakdown because they hadn't turned James and Rose in.

"Well, I suppose that at least you know what you're getting into," Longbottom said after a moment.

"Yeah, I do," James said. He knew he sounded a little defensive, but that was only because he felt a little defensive. A not-insignificant number of students in every year tended to treat their classmates entering Beast Division or joining the Aurors or Hit Wizards as rather naïve and misguided children who wouldn't be able to handle what it was _really_ like.

Despite the fact that almost no one James could remember had ever backed out.

Most of their yearmates knew better than to patronize James, in part because he was popular but mostly because being Harry Potter's son seemed to give him a little extra credibility. However, Bridget Hopkins had received a fair bit of it for being bound for the Aurors, even from their fellow Gryffindors.

It was rather irritating, and not everyone could laugh it off like his cousin Louis.

James wasn't well-acquainted with everyone who went in for Beast Division, the Aurors, or Hit Wizards, but _he_ certainly wasn't going in blind, and he suspected that many of them weren't, either.

Even if most of them probably were not making it a habit to seek out fights with mountain trolls.

He looked up at Longbottom and grinned. "How many times d'you think Mum and Dad would kill me if they knew all that?"

Longbottom shrugged. "I'm not sure they'd be all that shocked. They gave you the cloak, and there aren't many wholesome ways to use an invisibility cloak."

"No, there really aren't," James agreed, smirking.

Longbottom got up and began examining the aconite again. James had had enough meetings with Longbottom at this point to know that going back to examining a plant was not a sign that he was being dismissed. It just meant that the conversation was probably about to get more informal.

"Have you decided where in Beast Division you want to end up?"

James leaned back. "Dangerous Creatures," he said casually.

Longbottom glanced over at him. "I'm sure they'll be able to use you. They've been busy lately."

"I know. There might be quintapeds on the mainland."

"That hasn't been reported in the Daily Prophet," Longbottom said mildly. "Which of your cousins went into Dangerous Creatures, again? Victoire?"

"Yes. She's part of the team heading up to deal with them." James groaned. "I'm so jealous. Why couldn't the damn quintapeds have waited a few months?"

"They wouldn't send a trainee to deal with them, anyway," Longbottom told him. "You take after your parents. They were always spoiling for a fight, too." He laughed. "For that matter, so was I at your age."

"Why did you stop being an Auror, sir?" James had always wondered that. Professor Longbottom told stories about the Second Wizarding War, and about his time as an Auror, but James had never heard him say why he'd stopped.

Longbottom looked up from the plant. "I'd had my fill of it," he said simply. "Some people, like your father, might never have their fill of it. But I was ready to be move on."

James grinned. "I'll never have my fill of it," he said.

"It wouldn't surprise me if that was true." Longbottom looked back at the plant. "And that might be a good thing. The Dangerous Creatures Bureau needs the recruits. Go on. I'm sure you have better things to be doing with your afternoon."

"Yes, sir."

As he left the room Longbottom called after him, "Professor Goldstein would know more about the quintapeds than I do. Why don't you go talk to him? I think he's free right now."

James turned. "Thank you."

Longbottom smiled and looked back at the plants on the table as James left the office and made his way back toward the castle.

He had been planning on either going into Hogsmeade or finding Marion after the meeting. Tuesday was the only day in which he had the entire afternoon free, and he'd been making the best of it all year. He'd been sneaking into the village to see his cousin Fred at the joke shop at least a couple times a month for the past few years, and it had begun to hit him that next year, he would be lucky if he saw Fred once every few months. Fred was one of his favorite cousins, and he would miss the frequent visits.

To be fair, most of his cousins were one of his favorite cousins. Molly was the only one he ever avoided spending time with, and that was mostly because she could be so interfering and pedantic it drove him up a wall. He would say that being head girl had swelled her head, but it had been swelled long before her seventh year. Molly's problem that she was born with too much ambition and no sense of humor.

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't really have time to sneak into the village that afternoon, anyway. Scheduling a practice for both Sunday and Monday had left him far too exhausted to do any work when the team had returned to the common room the evening before. He had a Charms assignment he needed to do, and a Herbology essay he probably should do.

Of course, that didn't preclude spending a little time with Marion. She was making the effort, and he probably should, too. Roxanne had been exceedingly obnoxious when she'd laid into him after potions the day before, but she'd also been right; he _did_ need to stop avoiding the issue and pretending that he didn't care, especially since he was doing such a poor job of convincing himself or anyone _but_ Marion that it was true.

And he would find her. Once he'd talked to Goldstein.

After all, this _was_ his career they were talking about.

When he entered the Great Hall, however, he found Marion and Albus sitting on one of the benches, deep in conversation with Bridget. At the sound of his footsteps, they looked up.

"Hey," he called out as he approached them. As he neared them, he saw the look on Bridget's face. "Bridge, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, and Marion said, "Bethany and Caroline were bothering her over lunch about how she was sure to lose her nerve and fail at Auror training."

Bridget took a deep breath. "Usually it wouldn't bother me. It's Bethany and Caroline. They're airheads. But part of me is afraid that they're right. I _don't_ have any real experience. What if I just choke?"

"Oh, is that all?" James sat down with them. Marion sent him a warning look, but he ignored it. She was clearly expecting him to say something insensitive and dismissive, but she'd misread him. "Look, I know a lot more about being an Auror than Bethany or Caroline, and I think you'll be excellent. Don't worry about them. They don't know anything."

She sighed. "I know. It's just that I was already thinking it and just generally having a bad day, and them having a go at me just made it worse."

"Aren't they going into something completely worthless? Magical Transportation or something?" he scoffed. "They're disgraces to the house. You're not. You can't get much better than being an Auror." He grinned. "Unless it's Dangerous Creatures. You know—"

"Yes, James, we all know about the quintapeds on the mainland," Albus snapped, and James looked at him in surprise. His brother had been perfectly cheerful and friendly at lunch. What was James supposed to have done since then to bother him?

Bridget looked at him. "I didn't," she said with interest. "There are quintapeds on the mainland?"

"Possibly," James said. "D.C.B. is heading up to check it out."

She frowned. "Is it just me, or have dark creatures become more of a problem lately?"

James chose not to get into a discussion about semantics and whether or not they were really _dark_ creatures or just _dangerous_ creatures, especially since Albus was glaring daggers at him. "It's not just you," he said, and stood up. "I was on my way to Goldstein's. I'll see you all later. Feel better, Bridget. Ignore them. You'll do fine."

Marion rose too. "I'll walk with you," she said.

He waved goodbye as they walked away. As soon as they'd turned the corner, he asked, "What's his problem?"

She sighed. "James, just once, can you stop when I tell you to? I know you understood that I wanted you to shut up."

He looked at her in surprise. "You thought I was going to be insensitive. I wasn't going to be, so I didn't shut up."

"Oh, James." She kissed his cheek. "You're really stupid sometimes. That wasn't why I wanted you to shut up."

"Then what was?" he asked, stopping.

Marion hesitated and then said, "Albus had it covered—and he _is_ the one becoming an Auror next year."

James shrugged. "But Albus barely knows her. I'm her friend. Isn't it more convincing coming from me?"

She shrugged. "You need to meet with Goldstein?"

"Well, I don't _need_ to. I just want to. Longbottom suggested it."

"Okay." She hugged him. "Come find me when you're done? We can go for a walk or something, the weather's beautiful."

"Yeah, sure," he agreed. "You'll be in the common room?"

"Probably." As she turned to leave, he caught her hand. She looked back questioningly, and he kissed her. When he pulled away, she smiled. "I'll see you then."

He nodded, and continued on to Goldstein's office. The door was open, and Goldstein looked up as James poked his head in.

"James. Come in." He put the paper he'd clearly just finished marking aside. "Didn't I just see you in class?"

"Yes, sir." James sat down. "But I had to meet with Professor Longbottom, and we got to talking about the quintapeds. He suggested I come talk to you."

"Well, going into the D.C.B., I can see why you _would_ be interested in that," Goldstein said, frowning. "Did you hear about it from your cousin? I know it hasn't been mentioned in the press."

"Yes, sir." James hesitated, and then added, "Two summers ago, I overheard her talking to my father about the D.C.B. being really busy and overworked, and how dangerous creatures were becoming a bigger problem than dark wizards. Since then, I've been paying attention, and it seems like attacks are getting more common."

"That's because they are." Goldstein leaned forward. "You know that I've been insisting that fifth-years learn to cast a proper Patronus for the last few years, even though it's N.E.W.T. level. There's a reason for that."

"I kind of figured."

"I don't know whether there really are quintapeds on the coast," Goldstein said. "However, I do know that in general, there has been a disturbing increase in the populations of dangerous creatures and attacks."

"Why are they becoming so much of a problem now?"

"The short answer is that we're not quite sure."

"Well, what's the long answer?" James pressed.

Goldstein considered him for a moment, and then got up to close the door. When he sat back down, he seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. After a moment, he said slowly, "The long answer is that we have had a lot of bad luck as far the monsters are concerned, and unfortunately, they have taken full advantage of it."

"How so?"

"Why don't you tell me what you think?" suggested Goldstein.

James thought for a minute. "Everyone was too focused on dark wizards after the Second Wizarding War to pay attention to monsters."

"Precisely."

"But how could people just forget about them that easily?" James demanded. He just didn't understand the concept of being so afraid and focused on _anything_ that one could just manage to forget about dragons and werewolves and banshees.

Goldstein shook his head. "James, it's very difficult to explain to anyone who wasn't actually there what it was like. When Kingsley relaxed the requirements to become an Auror for anyone who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, a lot of us were happy to join up. For us, dark wizards were _the_ enemy. We'd been struggling against them for years. We'd been tortured by them. We'd all had friends murdered by them." His gaze settled on a framed photograph that had been sitting on his desk since the first time James had ever been inside his office, and he sighed. "We jumped at the chance to help finish them. And they needed the help; war with dark wizards has a tendency to diminish an Auror population rather rapidly."

James frowned. "But how could you just _forget_ about—"

Goldstein shook his head again. "Nobody _forgot,_ exactly. It just wasn't foremost in everyone's mind. Kingsley was clearly thinking about it, of course; the Dangerous Creatures Research and Restraint Bureau wasn't always called that. Do you remember what proceeded it?"

"The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures," James answered promptly. "But that wasn't really the same thing at all, was it?"

"No. It wasn't." Goldstein gave a disgusted snort. "Not even remotely. The Minister recognized the need for a more thorough bureau capable of discriminating between creatures that are inconvenient and creatures that are truly dangerous, which is how a committee of bloodthirsty secret death eaters became a valuable tool in truly understanding and controlling dark forces—though they have more than they can deal with, as of late."

"Well, why are they so busy? Why didn't people join?"

"Some did," Goldstein said. "But the war was over. Most people had had their fill of danger and violence. They were ready for boring jobs in the Department of Magical Transportation or writing up human interest pieces for the Daily Prophet, not continuing to risk their lives on a danger that was dwarfed by the more immediate danger of dark wizards."

James swallowed hard. He knew that it wouldn't be especially helpful for him to call everyone in his father's generation short-sighted idiots, especially since Longbottom and Goldstein were his favorite professors, but it was a little tempting. "Which creatures are causing the biggest problems today?" he asked instead.

"Well, I don't need to tell you that if quintapeds really _have_ come over to the mainland, that could into a nightmare in a hurry."

"Do you it's likely that they have?"

Goldstein gave him what James liked to call his 'Professor-Goldstein-sees-a-teaching-opportunity-and-must-take-advantage-of-it" look. Goldstein was the sort of professor who never let up; if you asked him a question, he was more likely than not to push you to come up with the answer yourself.

James appreciated that in a professor.

"What do you think?"

James looked up at the ceiling as he mulled over the question. "Well," he said slowly, "I didn't even think they _could_ leave the island, but assuming they did manage it somehow, why wouldn't they have done it before? If there _are_ quintapeds on the mainland, something must have happened to make them want to leave." He looked back down. "What could have happened?"

Goldstein shook his head. "That I couldn't tell you. What other creatures do you think are wreaking havoc in the country right now?"

There was some distant memory surfacing. "Victoire and Dominique were visiting us over Christmas a few years ago, and I remember Mum asking her how all of her friends had done adjusting to not being in school. She mentioned that her friend Holly was finding Werewolf Support Services much busier than she'd expected." James felt a sudden chill, despite the warmness of the day. "Are there more werewolves running around then there used to be?"

"You have a very good memory," Goldstein observed.

James shrugged. "Only when I find it interesting," he muttered.

In truth, he _did_ have a good memory. He might even have a better memory than Louis, who could never seem to manage to forget anything.

But if people knew that, he was fairly certain they'd start expecting a lot more of him than he wanted to give, and "I didn't feel like it" typically wasn't acceptable as an excuse.

"At any rate," Goldstein said, "yes, werewolves are more common now than they were when I was your age. Or, at least, we hear about them more."

"I don't understand."

Goldstein sighed. "When I was your age, most people assumed that werewolves were flat-out evil. Full stop. There's still a lot of prejudice these days, but it's much better. It's possible that more people are admitting to it, not that the numbers are actually increasing."

"But you don't think that," James said flatly.

"No. I don't." He wore a slight frown on his face. "There were a lot of werewolf attacks during the war, and I know for a fact that a lot of them weren't reported because I _knew_ people who didn't report them. Now more people are admitting it, but it's been a slow process, and even those with the best intentions…" He paused. "… can make mistakes." He looked back at James. "What else?"

"Dementor attacks are on the rise."

"Yes, they are, and most people don't even have the ability to perform a Patronus in a sunlit room, let alone when being attacked." Goldstein sighed. "When control of Azkaban was taken away from the dementors, they started looking for their supply of human despair somewhere else."

"Nothing is ever easy, is it?" James asked.

"No," Goldstein said. "Unfortunately, it isn't." He glanced at the clock. "I have a class in a few minutes."

"Oh, okay." James got up and headed toward the door. "Thank you, professor."

"Oh, and James?" James looked back. "I would recommend being very careful with who you repeat any of this information to. This isn't exactly classified information, but it's not being widely reported for a reason."

James nodded. "Right."

He didn't have any intention of shouting about dementors from the rooftops, though he did feel that he should probably tell Rose about it, given that at this time next year, she'd be getting ready to join him and Victoire in the D.C.B.

At the moment, however, he was more interested in mulling through this new information. He probably could have figured most of it out for himself, but Goldstein had a way of really getting you to _analyze _the situation.

The werewolves didn't actually apply to him. They were handled by people specifically trained to deal with werewolves, because disabling without maiming or killing a werewolf mattered, where doing so with a manticore or a dragon was hardly a priority.

James found it highly interesting, anyway.

And all of this business with quintapeds and dementors and who-knew-what-else was definitely indicative of a bigger problem.

All of this really added up to two things:

First, he had _definitely_ made the right decision when he'd decided to go into Dangerous Creatures.

Second, he could not _wait_ to graduate and join the fun.


	3. Countdown: 43 days

43 days (or, In Which James Realizes That Marion May Actually Have a Point)

James was playing exploding snap with Albus and Roxanne one Saturday evening in the Gryffindor common room when Professor Longbottom came to find them. James cursed when Roxanne won, but when he looked up at her face, she wasn't smiling. She wasn't gloating. In fact, her face was deadly serious.

He swiveled and found an identical expression on Professor Longbottom's face. "Will you three please come with me?" he asked. At least one of them must have looked alarmed, because Longbottom quickly added, "Don't worry."

James felt a shiver run down his spine. He, Roxanne, and Albus followed Longbottom out of the portrait hole, through the corridors, and up the stairs to Professor McGonagall's office.

She was not there, but Lily, Rose, and Hugo were. He and Albus took seats on either side of Rose, and he gave her a questioning glance. She gave a small shrug and shake of her head, and James slumped back in his chair.

"What's going on?" Albus asked Professor Longbottom, his voice steady.

Before the professor could answer, however, they heard footsteps on the stairs. After a moment, Professor McGonagall swept into the room, followed by their cousin Louis.

The pit in James's stomach grew bigger. Whatever Longbottom had said, James could not think of a reason that they would be in the Head's office and that Louis would be present that was remotely positive.

"What's going on?" Lily asked loudly.

"Everyone's fine," Louis said quickly. "V's in St. Mungo's, because of an…" he paused, and then continued, "an accident at work, but she's fine. Don't worry."

"If she's fine, then why are you here?" Lily pressed. She was right, James realized; it wasn't as though they hadn't had family members land up in St. Mungo's before, and it usually didn't merit a somber meeting with the Headmistress and their Head of House.

Louis sighed. "Because it'll probably get reported in the Daily Prophet tomorrow, and not everyone involved pulled through okay."

James looked at his sister. Her face was white, and she darted a glance at him. "What do you mean, not everyone pulled through?" she asked, her voice high. It occurred to him, and not for the first time, that his sister was not cut out to pursue the same sort of career that he and Albus were.

"I mean that they'll be in the St. Mungo's longer than she will," Louis said calmly.

"What kind of accident would get reported in the Daily Prophet?" Hugo asked. When James leaned over to look at him, he was frowning.

Louis sighed. "The kind of accident that I can't tell you about."

"So not an accident, then," Hugo said. He looked concerned and more than a little curious, but he also looked fairly collected. That was more than James could say for Lily, who was clutching the seat of her chair so hard that her knuckles were white.

"Won't we just read about it tomorrow in the Prophet, anyway?" James looked at Rose, who was frowning at Louis and waiting for an answer to her question.

Louis shrugged. "She's fine," he repeated. "That's all you need to know. Would you like to visit her tomorrow?"

"Yes," Hugo said before the rest of them could react.

James looked at Professor McGonagall. It might have been his imagination, but she looked especially grim. "In that case, you may report to Professor Longbottom's office tomorrow morning to travel to the hospital using floo powder," she said.

James nodded, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others doing the same. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall," he said. There was a chorus of "thank yous" from his cousins and siblings before they followed Professor Longbottom down the stairs.

When they got back to the common room, Marion and Tyler were sitting at the table that they had vacated. Both were hunched over what James assumed was the long review Goldstein had set them in preparation for N.E.W.T.s, but looked up as the portrait of the Fat Lady closed.

"Where have you been?" Tyler asked, trying (and failing) to look severe. "Don't you have work to do?"

Before James could figure out what to say, Roxanne answered him. "Not as much as you, since we haven't wasted countless hours snogging." Marion looked back down at her paper quickly, and James felt his face growing hot. "Oh, wait," Roxanne said, a look of mock thoughtfulness on her face. "I guess that's just me, then."

"Just because you can't—" Tyler started, but Roxanne cut him off.

"Who said anything about _can't_? I said _haven't._ I could." She threw herself into the armchair closest to the table and smirked. "I just don't want to."

Roxanne was notoriously picky.

Lily cleared her throat. "I'm going to go to bed," she said.

James frowned. It wasn't even eight yet. "Are you okay?" he and Albus asked at the same time.

She smiled. It looked forced. "Fine. Just tired." As she made her way toward the staircase to the girl's dormitory, James and Albus exchanged a look. On one hand, it was no good trying to get Lily to talk when she didn't feel like it, and they both knew it. However, at the same time, it was difficult to back off when your little sister was clearly upset, especially when you knew that it could easily be your fault in the future.

"Me, too," Hugo said, breaking the silence. "Not because I'm upset and lying about it, I'm just tired because I didn't get enough sleep last night."

"How come?" Rose asked, cocking her head to the side. "You weren't down here."

Hugo shrugged. "Strange dreams," he said after a minute.

Rose's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't challenge him. "Sleep well."

"Thanks." He waved. "Goodnight."

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Albus asked Rose once Hugo had disappeared up the stairs.

She looked at him in surprise. "Are my thoughts worth a whole sickle, now?" When he just raised his eyebrows, she shrugged. "It's nothing."

James was fairly certain that he didn't believe her, and he didn't think anyone else did, either.

"So where were you?" Marion asked, drawing the conversation away from Rose.

He grimaced and sank into the seat next to her.

"Victoire is in the hospital," Albus said flatly. "She's apparently fine, but we're going to see her tomorrow."

Tyler said something, but James lost track of what it was when Marion touched his hand. He looked up.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

He swallowed hard. It was a reasonable question, but he didn't really have an answer. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't really okay, but he wasn't sure why. He knew that what he wanted to do was dangerous and could land you in St. Mungo's—or worse. It wasn't just that he knew intellectually; he understood it, and he was okay with it. It also wasn't about people he cared about getting hurt: that was stressful, but it was stress that he knew how to deal with.

So why was he feeling so tense?

It must have shown in his face, because after a moment, he felt her other hand on the side of his head.

"You're going to mess up my hair," he mumbled as she ran her fingers through it.

She laughed, and he heard the others join her. "That would be a shame," he heard Albus say dryly.

"Come on." Marion stood up. "Let's go upstairs."

James looked up at her. "Huh?"

"Let's go upstairs," she repeated slowly.

"Oh." He got to his feet. "I'm really fine," he told her as she led him toward the stairs.

"Good to hear." He could tell that she didn't believe him.

When they reached the door that led to his dormitory, he turned the knob and the door swung open to reveal an empty room. He'd known it would be; Tyler and Julian were sitting in the common room, and Vincent was patrolling.

Marion crossed her arms. "What's wrong?"

James flopped onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow. "I don't know," he said, his voice muffled.

The bed moved slightly as she sat down next to him, and she began to run her fingers through his hair again, and he felt some of the tension drain out of him. "Come on, James. What's wrong?"

He turned his head to the side so his voice was clearer. "I don't know," he repeated. "I know that fighting things that can hurt and kill you is, you know, capable of hurting and killing you. And I'm okay with that." James's voice sounded a little more defensive than he'd meant it to.

"I know you are," she said calmly.

"It's not fun to worry about people you care about," James continued, "but I'm used to it. My dad is an Auror. I can't just spend my time worrying." After a moment, he looked up at her. "Not that—"

Marion shook her head and continued to stroke his hair. "I know what you mean."

"I mean, part of it is just not knowing. Louis said that V is fine, but I don't know what fine means. He said that not everyone pulled through as well as she did, but I don't know what that means, either." He trailed off.

"Not knowing is hard," she agreed.

James closed his eyes. "Lily freaking out didn't help, either." Marion made a questioning noise, and he sighed. "She just fell apart. I thought she was going to pass out or start crying hysterically."

Marion sighed, too. "James, she's in the rather unenviable position of having almost everyone in her family that she loves the most in the line of danger as it is, and she knows that that's where her brothers are headed as soon as they possibly can." She paused, and the hand in his hair stilled. "I think that she knew that you were a lost cause, but that she was hoping Albus would think the better of it, and it's become clear that he won't. That's what I think, anyway," she added quickly.

James frowned. "Aren't I in the same position?"

"Yes," she said slowly, "but you and your sister are very different people. You react to the people around you being in danger by accepting it as a natural part of life. She doesn't really seem able to do that, which is probably part of why she _isn't_ planning on doing anything particularly dangerous with her life."

"Seekers get hurt all the time," he pointed out.

Marion laughed. "Somehow, I think that playing Quidditch and fighting dragons are two very different experiences, bludgers or not."

"But I'm not going to fight dragons. That's Dominique."

"Not the point, James."

"I know." He touched her arm. "Come on, lay down." When she did, he put one of his arms around her and pulled her closer. "What about you?" he asked.

She twisted her head around to look at him. "What about me, what?" she asked, clearly confused.

"Your parents don't have what I'd generally call tame jobs," he pointed out.

"That's an understatement," she said wryly.

James grinned. "Well, yeah. But you don't seem to get tense about them." He didn't add 'only about me,' though he wanted to.

She seemed to know what he was thinking, anyway. "They're my parents. What can I do about it? I was just hoping to avoid it elsewhere in my life."

"I'm sorry I'm inconvenient," he told her.

"No you're not."

"I am," James said earnestly. "I'm not sorry for who I am, but I am sorry that it's inconvenient for you."

He could feel her trembling with suppressed laughter. "Of course you are."

"I am who I am," he said, starting to feel defensive again. "And it's a job that needs doing."

Marion groaned. "James, do we have to do this now?" As he opened his mouth to apologize, however, she shook her head. "No, wait." She pulled away from him and sat up, ignoring his protests. "I know that it is who you are, and I _know_ that it's a job that needs doing."

"So what's the problem?" he asked, looking up at her. Sooner or later, he needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut.

"I'm _scared_ of my best friend dying," she said after a moment. He was startled to see tears in her eyes. Marion usually didn't cry. She got annoyed or hurt, but she didn't cry.

"I thought Roxanne was your best friend," he said stupidly.

She ignored him. "James, you are one of my favorite people in the world," she said, her voice wavering. "I don't want you to die."

He blinked perplexedly. "Mari, I'm not planning on dying," he told her.

"But it could happen," she pointed out. "Your cousin isn't in St. Mungo's because she got hit by a bludger."

"No one's ever died in the DCB," he reminded her.

"Yet," Marion said darkly, and he had to admit, even if only to himself, that she was right. It was only a matter of time. "James, I love you. I have been in love with you for years. _I don't want you to die."_ Her lower lip trembled, and James suddenly felt the urge to kiss her. He pushed himself into a sitting position, put a hand on her cheek, and crashed his lips to hers. When he pulled away, he was pleased to see a small smile on her face. "I _really_ don't want you to die," she reiterated.

"Too much left that you'd like to do to me?" he asked, leaning over to his bedside table and grabbing a box of tissues off of it.

She blew her nose. "Yes, actually." She dabbed away the tears on her cheeks.

"I'll be extra careful to avoid dying, then," he promised.

She licked her lips. "Good to hear."

James groaned. "Stop it," he said, but there wasn't any real force behind the request.

"Stop what?" she asked, licking her lips again.

He flopped back down. "Weren't we trying to have a serious conversation?" he asked. "How do you expect me to have it if you're making me think of sex?"

"My lips are dry," Marion said innocently. "It isn't my fault if my licking them—" she did it again "—makes you think of other things."

"I hate you," he told her. "I hate you so much right now."

"Do you?" she asked unconcernedly. He wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved when she lay down next to him rather than on top of him. Probably a little of both. "You don't seem to hate me," she said, putting her leg over one of his.

He ran a hand up it, and was gratified to feel her shudder. "What can I do to help you feel better, then?" he asked.

She looked up at him, clearly surprised. "About you hating me?"

"No, about my job," he said, sliding his hand over so that he was touching the inside of her thigh.

Marion tried to suppress a gasp, but did not quite succeed. "James, I can't think with you doing that."

"That didn't stop you," he said, continuing to stroke her leg.

"Yes," she said, squirming, "but I wasn't actually _touching_ you."

James snorted. In his opinion, that was a very fine distinction. "Fine," he said, beginning to pull his hand away.

"No," she said quickly. "You can keep it there. Just stop… stroking me." He smirked, and she smacked his chest lightly. "Not like that."

"Oh, should I save that for later?" he asked innocently.

"Yes, you should." James put an arm around her, and she snuggled into his body. "You feel good."

"You've told me that before," he quipped, and she smiled.

"I've been thinking about that," Marion said after a moment. "What you can do to make me feel better, I mean."

"And?"

"Don't lie to me."

"I don't—" he started, outraged.

"Not now," Marion said quickly. "Later. Tell me the truth about what's going on. About what you're facing. About what the dangers are." She sighed. "It's the idea of not knowing that's the worst."

James thought for a moment. "I can do that. Should I start now?"

"If you want to kill my sex drive for the rest of the night, sure."

He grinned. "But won't you want me even more knowing how brave and heroic I am?"

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"A little," he said. "I just don't know how to deal with people worrying about me."

"I know you don't." She propped herself up and looked down at him. "I bet I can think of a way to make you feel better, though."

He reached up for her. "I bet you can, too," he said softly.

Tyler's knock at the door came way too soon.

By the time James met the others in front of Longbottom's office the next day, he was feeling much better. There was something about Marion that helped him relax.

Other than the obvious.

When they entered Victoire's room at St. Mungo's, Teddy was sitting by her bedside. The two of them were holding hands and speaking to each other softly. James did not feel jealous, exactly. He certainly didn't begrudge them their happiness.

He just wished his relationship wasn't so uncertain.

Victoire saw them first, and struggled to sit up. "Everyone's coming to see me," she said, grinning. "I feel _ever_ so special."

"Who else has been here?" Albus asked.

"Everyone," she said cheerfully. "How are all of you doing?"

"Fine," Rose said. She seemed to consider this to be a ridiculous question, considering the situation. James heartily agreed. "What _happened?"_

Teddy frowned. "You know we can't answer that."

"You know?" Roxanne asked, looking a little outraged.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes," he said dryly. "As I am her husband, yes, I know."

"But we're her _family."_ Roxanne crossed her arms. James knew her well enough to know that she wasn't actually bothered. That was just part of how Roxanne dealt with stress: acting ridiculous.

"So am I," Teddy said mildly. He knew not to take her seriously. "And I actually have to live with her." He conjured several more chairs and gestured to them. "Take a seat."

"I bet Fred knows, too," Roxanne muttered. She couldn't quite pull off a scowl.

"Yes," Victoire agreed, still very cheerful. "He does. But he's the only cousin who does, if it makes you feel at all better."

Roxanne sniffed. "You like him the best of all of us."

"Yes," Victoire agreed again. "I like you all very much, but I have to admit that I like your brother the best."

Albus sat down in one of the chairs. "What _can_ you tell us?" he asked. When Victoire and Teddy looked at each other, he rolled his eyes. "You must be able to tell us something."

James chose to exercise his better judgment for once and refrained from mentioning quintapeds.

"My squad was checking out a report from up north," Victoire said slowly. James had the impression that she was choosing her words very carefully. "We were attacked. Now we're all in St. Mungo's."

"How are the others doing?" Rose asked, looking concerned.

"Less well than me," Victoire admitted. "I'm really fine, I'm just here as a precaution. Van is conscious, and he should make a full recovery." She hesitated. "Sienna is more touch and go. That's really all I can say."

James looked at his sister. She was clutching her jacket, but otherwise looked much calmer than she had the night before. He wondered what had happened in between then and now. Maybe it was just a good night's sleep.

Victoire cleared her throat and jerked her head toward the clock on the wall. "I'm really sorry," she apologized, "but the heads of the division are coming to see us, and they should be here in a few minutes. It won't take long. Do you mind…"

"Why don't we go get a cup of tea and come back in a few minutes?" Albus suggested, getting up. Lily and Hugo—who for some unfathomable reason loved the St. Mungo's cafeteria—were halfway down the corridor before James, Albus, Roxanne, and Rose had even exited the room.

James caught sight of a name on the door two doors down from Victoire's and stopped short.

"What's up with you?" Roxanne asked, looking back.

He put a finger up to his lips, his excitement mounting. With his other hand, he pointed at the name on the door.

Albus peered at the name. "Who on earth is Van Dedworth?" he asked, mispronouncing the first name.

"Van," James corrected him absentmindedly.

"Oh." Then Albus's eyes widened. _"Oh."_

"If they're coming to see Victoire, you can bet they'll be checking in on him." James looked at Rose, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines that he was.

"James, do you have the cloak?" she hissed.

"Of course."

Roxanne looked from James to Rose. "The four of us can't fit under it."

"No, we can't," Albus agreed. "And I think that it's my turn."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Rose snapped. "This is _our_ department, we have dibs."

"It's not your department yet," Albus said stubbornly. "And I want in."

James looked at his watch. "We _really_ don't have time to argue about this now."

"Well, we should go." Rose crossed her arms. "It _is_ our department."

Roxanne looked at the three of them, and then up the hallway at Hugo and Lily, who had stopped and were looking back at them suspiciously. "You _owe_ me," she said before going to join them.

When James looked at his brother, Albus was scowling. "No. All three of us can fit under it, we're not that big."

"Come on, then." Rose glanced up the corridor. "No one's out here, _hurry up."_

James had just slipped the cloak over the three of them when the door to the room opened and a girl backed out. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Don't worry," came a voice from inside the room. "I'm sure it will be fine."

James, Albus, and Rose took advantage of the open door and slipped in before it could close.

They had just made their way to a corner when the door opened again, and a man stepped into the room. James knew exactly who he was.

This was one of the best ideas he'd had in a long time.

The man sat down in a chair next to the bed and leaned forward. "What _happened,_ Van?" he asked without preamble.

"Is Sienna alive?" the man in the bed asked urgently.

"For the moment, yes, but Van, _I need to know what happened._"

"Did anyone else get hurt? Viv wouldn't tell me."

Seamus sighed. "Viv probably didn't know. No. No one else got hurt. What happened?"

The other man groaned. "I screwed up, Seamus. I wasn't thinking."

"That doesn't tell me much." Seamus Finnigan said.

"Oh, hell." Before Seamus could ask again, Van said, "They weren't quintapeds."

Seamus did not seem relieved. "Then what were they?"

"Acromantulas," Van said, his head still in his hands. "Big ones. They wouldn't go down."

"What do you mean, 'they wouldn't go down'?" Seamus asked, a crease between his eyebrows. "No, wait. Start at the beginning."

"My squad and Natalie's squad combed through the area where there had actually been sightings together. After we'd moved through all of it and found nothing, we split up to cover more ground further inland. Just in case we'd missed something. Natalie probably told you that." He looked at Seamus, who nodded. "We planned to touch base every fifteen minutes, and I sent Victoire to compare notes." He looked up. "I couldn't go and leave the two of them, and Sienna hates apparation, so I thought—"

"You didn't do anything wrong," Seamus said. He had his head down, and appeared to be studying the floor. "What happened next?"

"After the third or fourth time Victoire left, there was a loud noise. We should have left it alone until she'd come back, but it was so close, and we didn't want her to apparate into an attack if it came at us."

Seamus nodded. "So you went after it."

"Yes." Van looked positively miserable. "So we went after it. It turned out to be a nest of acromantulas. Maybe they were waiting for her to leave."

"What makes you think that?" Seamus asked. James was glad; he'd been confused by the statement, too. Acromantulas weren't very good at planning like that. They liked human flesh too much.

Van shrugged. "It seems like too much of a coincidence that we'd hear something _seconds_ after she left, especially after the third or fourth time. If they'd been watching, they'd have known she was gone for two or three minutes at a time. Maybe I'm wrong."

"How confident are you that you're right?"

"Not very," Van suggested. "It's just my gut, and we've seen how good that is these days." He gave a humorless laugh.

Seamus shook his head. "You might have something," he said. "Keep going."

"We walked right into it," Van said simply. "It happened so quickly. They were on us, and suddenly she was down. They were between us, they'd separated us somehow, but I was trying to blast them away from her and keep them off me and to get to her all at once." He shuddered. "I don't even remember getting hurt, I just remember a splitting pain in my side. I knew I was done for. That's when Victoire came in. She blasted them away, pulled me over to Sienna, and apparated us away." He was staring down at his bed. "If it wasn't for her, we'd both be dead."

"Yes, you would," Seamus agreed.

"Do you want me to resign?" Van asked after a minute or two of silence.

Seamus looked surprised. "No, of course not. Why would I?"

Van frowned. He looked as though he rather doubted his superior's sanity. "I almost got Sienna killed."

"You also kept Sienna alive until help could reach you," Seamus pointed out. "And you almost died in the process."

"I should have…" Van started, and then gave up. "Is there anything else?"

Seamus rose. "Not for the moment." He paused at the door. "No one blames you, Van," he said. "We'll all be glad to have you if you choose to come back."

"Why wouldn't I choose to come back?" Van asked, a look of surprise on his face.

Seamus shrugged and stepped through the door. James, Albus, and Rose hurried through it after him. They waited to pull the cloak off until he joined a woman with a face nearly as scarred as their uncle's and they'd disappeared down the hall.

Rose's eyes were shining. "You have _got_ to be kidding me." She looked both excited and terrified. James could understand that particular mix of emotions.

He was experiencing them, too.

* * *

><p><strong>Vacation got in the way of updating-I thought I'd have a lot more time and energy than I ended up having! We should be back to regular updates now.<strong>

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, I appreciate all reviews. :)**

** - Beeezie**


	4. Countdown: 41 days

41 days (or, In Which James Discovers that _Everyone_ Has Issues)

Roxanne was practically jumping out of her skin when James, Albus, and Rose joined her at the table she'd snagged with Hugo and Lily in the cafeteria, but with the third-years there, they couldn't very well relate what they'd heard. It wasn't until they were back in the Gryffindor common room that evening that they had the chance to talk about it.

"So, wait a minute," Roxanne said slowly, casting a cautious eye around the rest of the room. It wasn't crowded, and they were seated at a table well-removed from what activity there was, but when you were discussing attacks on Ministry officials, it always paid to be cautious. "You're telling me that _acromantulas_ managed to be patient enough to set a trap?"

"Potentially," Albus said. He looked thoughtful. "It's a bit odd, though, isn't it? It really did sound like that, but acromantulas aren't exactly known for their patience."

"No," James and Roxanne said at the same time. "No, they're _really_ not."

Rose let out a low laugh. "Speaking from experience?"

James and Roxanne exchanged a glance. "All right, yes," Roxanne admitted after a moment. "But we never told you."

Albus shook his head. "I want to say that I'm absolutely shocked."

"But you're not," James said.

His brother shook his head. "It is strange, though."

"He could just be wrong," Roxanne pointed out, shifting slightly in her seat and drumming her fingers on her Potions book. "He was being attacked, so he probably wasn't thinking clearly." James glanced across the table at Rose and Albus; the skepticism he felt was reflected on their faces. Roxanne plowed on, anyway. "He said himself that he wasn't all that sure."

Rose shook her head immediately. "No, that doesn't track. He clearly didn't lose his head if he held them off, and I've heard V talk about Van; from what she said, he's got good instincts."

Roxanne looked troubled. "So, what, then? The acromantulas are suddenly getting smarter?"

Rose shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe there's some other explanation. I don't know."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, trying to puzzle it out. James cast an eye around the room; the only real activity was from some second-years chatting in front of the fireplace and Bridget and Julian playing a game of exploding snap with Damien Bell and Colleen Macmillan at a table on the other side of the room.

Everyone seemed to be giving the table James, Albus, Roxanne, and Rose were sitting at a wide berth. He supposed he couldn't really blame them; the other three looked had distinctly brooding expressions on their faces, and he was sure his was no different. Their housemates probably thought that they'd received bad news about Victoire and wanted to give them space.

"You know, if we're just patient, James will probably be able to give us an answer in a couple months," Albus pointed out.

Rose wrinkled her nose in distaste, and Roxanne said, "I'm not good at being patient. I don't want to wait that long."

"Neither do I," Albus admitted. "But I can't figure it out."

"We could ask Victoire again," Rose suggested, but she sounded doubtful. "She might tell us more if Hugo and Lily aren't around."

"She _might,"_ James said. "But I don't think so. Roxanne, do you think Fred would tell us?" Victoire and Fred had always been close. Even if Victoire had flat-out denied that Fred knew, James would have perfectly willing to bet his broom that she was lying.

Rose and Albus exchanged a hopeful glance, and Roxanne looked thoughtful. "He might," she said, considering. "It's worth a try. We'll have to go into the village, though, he won't tell us by owl."

"Well, we can't go tonight," Albus said. When Roxanne looked ready to protest, he shook his head. "We can't," he repeated, a little more forcefully. "It's already getting late. Honeydukes isn't open at night, so we couldn't just slip out, and we won't all fit under the cloak, anyway. We need to plan this."

There was entirely too much sense in what he said for James or either of their cousins to argue, and Roxanne slumped back in her seat, looking dejected.

The table descended into silence again, and then Albus muttered something. When James looked at him, he could see a crease in his brother's forehead as he studied the sky out the window. He was clearly trying to remember something.

"What was that?" Rose asked.

"Dedworth," Albus said, looking back at them. "Where have I heard that name before? I can't remember, and it been bothering me."

"Other than Victoire talking mentioning Van?" When Albus nodded, Rose said, "I don't know. It sounds familiar, though."

"Victoire and Fred were friends with Van's younger brother Gallagher in school," James said. "You're probably thinking of him."

Albus's face cleared. "Yes," he said, smacking the table. "He went off to be an Auror."

"Huh." Rose paused, and then said, "Al is right. We do need to plan this. So let's plan it."

"We could go in tomorrow," Roxanne suggested. "How are your mornings? We—" she indicated herself and James "—have potions first thing and then we're free until lunch."

Rose shook her head. "That won't work. We have Herbology right _before_ lunch." Roxanne opened her mouth, and Rose shook her head. _"And_ we've got Defense Against the Dark Arts right after lunch, and don't you have Charms later in the afternoon?"

James sighed. "Yeah. We do."

"Well, what about after you get out of Charms?" Albus persisted.

"We have Quidditch practice," James said, feeling unhappy about it for the first time since he made the team. "And we have the game Saturday, so we really can't skip it." Albus looked crestfallen, and the disappointment he was feeling was mirrored on Roxanne's face.

Rose, however, looked thoughtful. "Why don't you talk to Noah?" she suggested. "He might be willing to switch practices with us, and I think he reserved the pitch for Tuesday."

Albus's face brightened. "That's a great idea!"

"It actually is," Roxanne admitted after a moment. "You think he would?"

"Unless there's some conflict with someone's schedule, sure," Albus said.

"I'll do that first thing tomorrow, then." James felt significantly better. "So—"

A shadow fell over their table, and James looked up. Bridget was standing a couple feet away. She tucked her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat before speaking. "Ah… do you all want to be left alone, or can I join you for a bit? It's fine if you want to be left alone, I just thought—"

"No, it's fine," he said. "Don't be stupid. Pull up a chair."

She grabbed one from the next table and pulled it over. "Hi." She snapped her fingers. "Oh, Albus?" Albus looked up from the table, which he had been studying with an intensity James found very strange. "I never got the chance to thank you."

"For what?"

"Well, last week," she said, looking a little confused. "I don't know what came over me and why I got so upset, but thanks for making me feel better."

"I didn't do much," Albus said, shrugging.

Bridget laughed again. "Don't be ridiculous! Of course you did." She cocked her head to one side, studying him. James wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or if Albus was avoiding meeting her eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a very relaxing person to be around?" she asked.

"Once or twice," he said. James thought that his brother's face looked a little flushed, but in the dim light, it was hard to be sure.

He looked at Rose, wondering if she thought Albus's behavior was at all strange. Her shoulders were shaking a little with what seemed to be repressed laughter. When he looked over at Roxanne, she was studying Albus with an intensity James found almost as strange as his brother's sudden obsession with the table.

James sighed. He would figure out what was going on later. On a whim, he glanced past Rose and caught Julian and Damien both lowering their heads quickly. "Did they put you up to this?" he asked Bridget.

She gave him a startled look. "What?" She followed his gaze, and then laughed. "Oh. No, we were just saying that you all looked really unhappy, and I decided to come see if you were okay." She waited a moment, and then asked, "Well, are you okay?"

James frowned, considering how much he should tell her. He liked Bridget, and she had always struck him as rather discrete. At the same time, they still hadn't discussed whether it was okay to talk about this with anyone.

Rose took the decision out of his hands. "We're… coping. You heard that Victoire is in St. Mungo's, right?"

Bridget nodded. "How is she? I never knew her, really, but I really loved her sister." James saw Albus's head snap up out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you talk to Dominique much these days?" Rose asked curiously.

Bridget shook her head. "Not really. I was just her friend's kid sister." She cleared her throat. "Ah…"

James suddenly realized that they hadn't answered her question. "Victoire is all right," he said. "She should be out soon."

"I'm glad," Bridget said. After a moment of silence, she said very tentatively, "The Daily Prophet said that three Ministry officials were in St. Mungo's."

James and Rose exchanged a quick look across the table. "There are," James said.

"Who are the others, do you know?" She checked herself. "Well, even if you know, can you tell me?"

Roxanne grinned. "Bridge, did you come over here to grill us for information?" she teased.

Bridget groaned and put her head down on the table. "I _knew_ you'd think that," she said in a muffled voice. She picked her head up. "No, I did not come over to grill you for information. I was just wondering because…" her voice trailed off.

"What, are you worrying about someone specific?" Albus asked. She looked at him sharply. James was now quite certain that it was not his imagination. Albus's face was definitely flushed. "Who?"

She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears again. "Ian. He's one of my brother's best friends, you know."

Roxanne sucked in her breath. "Is that where Ian went off to?"

Bridget's face relaxed slightly. "Yes." She studied their faces. It seemed to James that she focused on Albus the longest. "So, does that mean…"

"We heard about Victoire and two others being taken to St. Mungo's," Rose said bluntly. "Neither of those others was Ian."

The relief on Bridget's face was apparent. "Thank you," she said. "I really didn't come over here to information gather, you know."

"Not at all?" Roxanne asked, grinning at her.

Bridget looked like she was trying to hide a smile of her own. "Well. Maybe a little. But I also really was worried." She looked at them curiously. "If Victoire's okay, why are you all sitting here looking like a niffler just raided your vault?"

"We overheard some things that were interesting," James said vaguely. "We're just thinking."

Bridget frowned, but didn't press him. "Oh. Well, would anyone be interested in a game of exploding snap?"

"Tired of Julian and Colleen?" Rose asked as she pulled her bag up to her lap and rummaged in it for her cards.

"A bit," Bridget admitted. "Not Damien, but Julian and Colleen can both be a bit silly sometimes."

Rose tossed her cards on the table. "Bridget, if you were the type of person who got tired of Damien, I would wonder about you."

After a game, Roxanne declared that they needed to get some work done. While James would have liked to argue with her, he really couldn't, but as soon as Bridget had rejoined the other table, he turned on his brother.

"What was _that_ about?"

Albus didn't look up from his Herbology book, but James could swear that even his ears were getting red. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Rose was shaking again, and Albus glanced at her. "Rose, you're not helping."

"I don't mean to be," she said, unable to contain the smile spreading across her face. James raised his eyebrows at her, and the smile immediately faded. "Al, haven't you talked to James about it at all?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Albus said through clenched teeth.

Roxanne looked up. "Yes, there is," she snapped. "Stop trying to be a stoic berk. The only people stoicism looks good on are the wounded, madwomen, and men with motorcycles. So spill."

"I get the men with motorcycles, but why does it look good on the wounded and madwomen?" Rose asked curiously. "And why not madmen?"

"Because it doesn't do anyone any good to lay around and moan about the pain they're in for ages, even when it's warranted." Roxanne shrugged. "And it makes madwomen mysterious and exotic. It just makes madmen look like they need to be locked up."

James thought about that for a moment. "If you say so," he said.

"_What?"_ Rose asked. For a moment, James thought she was talking to him, but when he turned to her, she was looking at Albus.

"Is _that_ why Scorpius has been talking about getting a motorcycle?"

Rose's entire face went beet-red. "Maybe."

James exchanged a look with Roxanne. Once they began to laugh, it took a long time for them to stop.

"Oh, Merlin," Roxanne said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I might have to start liking Malfoy after all." Albus was looking back at his book. She reached over and pulled it away. "That was a good laugh. Thank you. Now start talking."

Albus sighed. "There really isn't much to talk about," he said resignedly, tossing the quill he'd been using to make notes in the margins on the table.

"Not much to talk about?" James said incredulously.

"You've been running around in love with our classmate for who knows how long, and there's not much to talk about?" Roxanne demanded. "Really, Albus?"

Albus let out another sigh. "What is there to say? I've been making a concentrated effort to get over her."

James stared at his brother. "What do you mean? Why? Have you already asked her out?"

"No, of course not." Albus looked surprised, which only made James feel more lost. "I'm her friend's little brother. She wouldn't want to go out with me."

James ran a hand over his face, trying to process what his brother had just said.

"Albus, there is a term for that kind of logic," he heard Rose say carefully. "It is called insane troll logic."

Albus crossed his arms. "See, _this_ is why I haven't wanted to say anything," he said. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Al…" James tried to choose his words carefully. "There isn't anything to understand. That doesn't make sense. You're a year younger than me. That's not exactly a huge age difference."

Albus shook his head stubbornly. "It's not just about age difference. I'm not friends with your friends. I'm your little brother."

James groaned, and tried to take some solace in the fact that both Roxanne and Rose looked equally confused by Albus's logic. "Yes, and our _mother_ is our father's best friend's little sister," he said, trying to be patient.

"It's different."

"Charlotte is Dominique's little brother's friend," Roxanne pointed out.

Albus snorted. "Yeah, there's a functional relationship," he said sarcastically.

"Yeah, but that's just about Dominique, and it'd be true no matter who she was dating," Rose told him. "You know it would. And Victoire is two years younger than Teddy."

"Hell, for that matter, my mother is a year older than my father," Roxanne said. "And Merlin, speaking of V and Dominique, how much older than Aunt Fleur is Uncle Bill?"

Albus shrugged. "It's different. And anyway, _speaking of Dominique,_ you heard Bridget. She barely even _knew_ Dominique, and she said she loved her."

"Jesus," James muttered. "Albus, have you _heard_ of hyperbole?"

"It's a pretty radical interpretation of what she actually said, Albus." Rose sounded like she was trying to be gentle, but James could definitely detect a hint of deep irritation.

"Practically everyone is in love with Dominique," Albus said tightly. "Why should she be any different?"

"Albus, stop being an idiot," Roxanne snapped. "I have a very difficult time believing that Bridget is pining away for our cousin who she hasn't seen in three years."

"No, but—"

"Albus. Shut up." Roxanne narrowed her eyes at him. "There is absolutely no reason to think that she is or ever was in love with Dominique. The only people who _don't_ like Dominique are the friends of people she's rejected."

Rose shook her head. "Albus, why would you even think that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "When her brother and Dominique were here, I remember that she used to follow them around a lot. She practically worshipped the ground they walked on."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Roxanne said. "Albus, when Fred was here, _I_ followed him around like a lost puppy. I worshipped the ground he _and_ Lexy walked on. That didn't mean that I was _in love_ with Lexy."

Rose frowned at him. "How do you even _remember_ something from that long ago? Dominique and Mason graduated after our fourth year." Albus had suddenly become very interested in the table again, and she groaned. "Al, have you been obsessing about her for that long?"

"Leave me alone." Roxanne still had him book under her arm. He eyed it, but chose not to make what he had to know would be a futile attempt to grab it.

James forced himself to be patient. "Albus, just ask her out. It's not that hard."

"Yes it is. I'm sure she's not interested." He sighed and slumped in his seat. "Anyway, she's leaving in a month and a half. She won't want to do some distance thing with some kid she barely knows."

"You can't _know_ that unless you ask," Rose said reasonably.

Roxanne looked thoughtful. "Personally, I think you've got a decent chance of getting a yes."

Albus sighed again. "I'll think about it, okay? Now please just leave me alone and let me do my work."

Roxanne pushed his book back across the table. "Albus—"

"I said I'd think about it. Drop it," he snapped, snatching the book and opening it with so much force that he ripped a page.

James looked down at his work, feeling distinctly wrong-footed. How on earth he could have missed this for years was beyond him—though now that he was thinking about it, a lot of things were making sense.

After about an hour, Albus pushed the book away. "I can't concentrate," he said.

"Neither can I," James admitted.

"We could go duel," Albus suggested.

James considered this for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, let's do that." He looked at the two girls, who gave him nearly identical looks of disgust.

"Some of us have work to do," Roxanne said irritably.

"Well, you know where to find us if you get bored of it," he said before grabbing his bag and following his brother to the portrait hole.

When they'd climbed through the portrait hole, James checked the map quickly to make sure that there were no teachers prowling the halls.

As they made their way to the room of requirement, Albus looked at him curiously. "What are you so bothered about?"

James stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his neck. "Oh, you know. The usual. What exactly I'm going to tell Marion." Albus gave him a questioning look, and James sighed. "I promise I'd be honest with her," he explained.

Albus winced. "Oh."

James thought for a minute. "And I'm a little worried about Lily," he admitted.

"You too?" When James glanced at Albus, he looked morose. "What, did you think all of this was just about you lot bothering me about Bridget?"

James _had_ thought that, but he had the sense not to say so. "I'm tired of her being so closed off and unhappy, and I'm _really_ tired of not knowing what to do to help."

"I don't think there's really anything we _can_ do," Albus said regretfully. "Short of changing our plans, but _I_ don't intend to do that, and I don't think you do either."

James shook his head. "No. I don't."

"I just wish she would talk about it." They stopped in front of a nondescript wall, and Albus began to pace back and forth. "You know?"

"I know," James said as the door materialized.

Albus opened the door, and James followed him into the room. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Albus whirled around and raised his wand. Instinctively, James mirrored him. At the time, Albus said, "Impedimenta!"

Nothing happened.

"Come on, Al," James said in exasperation, waving his wand to break the shield charm he'd just cast. "Can't you do nonverbal spells yet?"

Albus lowered his wand. "I _can,"_ he said, wrinkling his nose. "I just don't always think of it."

"If you're going to be an Auror, you have to _learn _to think of it." James realized a split second too late that he'd relaxed his guard; before he could bring his wand back up, a gash appeared in his shirt and his arm began to sting.

Albus smirked. "Like that?"

James sighed. "Yes. Like that." He looked down. "Al, I _like_ this shirt."

"So fix it," his brother suggested. "Though I don't know why you wore a shirt you like to duel it."

"I wasn't thinking," James said distractedly, still examining the rip in the shirt and the cut on his arm. "And I'm no good at fixing clothes."

"Then ask Marion to do it," Albus told him, his wand still raised. "Or _I'll_ do it."

James sighed. "Fine." He didn't bother to heal the cut on his arm; he'd probably just acquire more during the duel, anyway. Instead, he quickly brought his wand back up and cried, "Silencio!"

Albus rolled his eyes, but did not break the charm. Instead, he pointed his wand at James, who had to jump to the side to avoid the jet of water that erupted from the end of Albus's wand. In response, James pointed his wand at one of the bookshelves.

Ten or eleven books sped toward Albus, who managed to successfully repel and shrink most of them but was hit in the stomach by the last two. He doubled over, his eyes tearing up, and pointed his wand at the books that were now lying on the floor.

The air was suddenly filled with birds. They sped at James, chirping angrily. He took a step back and produced a strong gust of wind to force them back and give him the space he needed to vanish them. He had just vanished the last one when he felt a splash of ice-cold water hit his side. However, when James looked around, his brother was nowhere to be seen.

James took the opportunity to make himself impervious to any future water attacks; they were a specialty of Albus's. As he glanced around the room, he saw a slight shadow peeking out from behind another bookshelf. Grinning, he pointed his wand at the bookshelf.

It promptly burst into flames. James could hear his brother curse before a burst of water dampened the flames. He had clearly tired of not having a voice. After a moment, Albus emerged from behind the bookshelf, soaking wet and with soot across his forehead.

"How did you know I was there?" he asked, looking put out.

"Your shadow," James said, nodding at the bookshelf. "I could see your hair."

Albus wrinkled his nose. "Damnit." He pointed his wand toward James, but James was ready. When ropes flew out of the end of Albus's wand and toward him, he banished them with a wave of his wand and immediately turned his wand back on his brother, who tried to block the spell a moment too late and yelled at the cut that appeared on his hand.

They circled each other warily.

"You didn't drop your wand," James commented.

"No," Albus agreed. "I didn't. That's a good way to die." He gave it a quick flick and James doubled over in pain, feeling as though he'd just been hit with a copy of _Hogwarts: A History._ As he gasped for air, he covertly pointed his wand at his brother's feet. When Albus tried to step forward, he tripped over his feet, which had almost doubled in size. He looked down in dismay. "James!"

James straightened up. "Petrificus Totalus!" Albus went as rigid as a board, and James stepped over to him and took his wand. "Tough luck, little bro," he said before unfreezing him and restoring his feet to their normal size.

Albus slowly got to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. "That hurt."

James took several steps back so Albus would not be able to surprise him and take his wand back. "So did this," he said, nodding at the gash in his arm.

Albus did not look remotely abashed. "Can I have my wand back now?" he asked.

James tossed it to him, and he caught it. "You'd have been a decent seeker, you know," James commented.

Albus shrugged. "Lily's better." He gave his wand another flick, and there was a flash of white light. James felt a sharp tug on his ankle, and before he knew it, he was hanging upside down.

He made a quick decision and aimed his wand at where he thought his brother was probably still standing. There was a loud curse, and James dropped back to the floor. He spun to face Albus, who was now sporting a second cut on, this one on his shoulder.

They eyed each other warily for a moment, and then Albus brought his wand up. James did the same. Suddenly, he felt his legs stick to each other like glue, and he toppled over. By the time James had unfrozen his legs, the room was silent and Albus was nowhere to be found.

He sighed. Albus had a habit of disappearing in the middle of duels. He liked to take people by surprise. James pointed his wand toward the pile of cushions. It immediately exploded. James had hoped the sudden blast would lure Albus out of his hiding space, but he had no such luck.

"A year ago that would have startled you out," he called as cotton stuffing began to rain down from the sky.

"A year ago I was stupider than I am now," Albus called back. James checked to make sure that Albus was nowhere in sight before kneeling down and tapping his wand to the floor. A thin layer of ice began to creep across the floor toward the general area he'd heard his brother's voice coming from.

"True," he said, backing away from the ice. He pointed his wand at a chair, which slid across the ice more quickly than he'd expected. When it hit the wall, it broke into several pieces, which raced back across the ice in different directions. "You going to keep hiding forever?"

Albus lunged out from behind an overturned desk. "Stupe—" Before he could finish the incantation, he slipped on the ice and fell backward. "Goddamnit!"

James pointed his wand toward his brother. Albus, however, knew what was coming and blocked James's attempt to disarm him before countering with a confundus charm, which James dodged just in time. Albus liked to block spells, but James preferred to dodge them if he could; blocking meant that your opponent had the chance to cast another spell, while dodging meant that you could respond immediately.

"Expell—" Albus tried again, and James blocked it.

"You're learning nonverbal spells for a reason," he snapped.

Albus's eyes narrowed, and he gave his wand a quick flick. James felt a sudden stinging on his leg and stumbled. "Like that?" Albus said coolly.

"Yes," James said, waving his wand again. "Like that." Albus's wand went flying and clattered across the ice. Albus scrambled after it, dodging James's attempts to jinx him. When he reached his wand. He was turning and had it raised when the jet of red light hit him square in the chest. His eyes widened, and he collapsed.

James made his way over to his brother and pointed his wand at him. "Rennervate."

Albus groaned. "My shoulder is killing me," he said, sitting up and rubbing it.

James sat down on the floor to examine his leg, which was slightly swollen below the knee and had an angry welt on it. "Stinging hex?" he asked, waving his wand over it. The pain vanished. He sat back to wait for the swelling to subside.

"Yeah," Albus said, getting to his feet gingerly. He almost slipped on the ice again, but managed to catch himself in time. When he sank into a chair, James noticed that while there was still a little blood on the back of his hand, the skin beneath it was smooth. When he saw James looking, Albus shrugged. "I healed it," he said. "It hurt too much to ignore."

As Albus waved his wand over his knees, which he'd scraped on the ice when he'd gone after his wand, James examined the cut on his arm. Healing that was easy; he wasn't sure how he was going to mend the fabric or get the blood out. He frowned at it. He really had liked this shirt.

Albus snorted. "Isn't it about time you learned to mend your own clothes?" he asked. When James turned to look at him, he was grinning.

"I'm no good at this," James said irritably. "I've tried. I just can't do it."

Albus got to his feet and stretched. "Give it to me tomorrow and I'll take care of it. I'm too tired tonight."

"Thanks," James said, and took the hand his brother offered him to pull himself up. He made his way toward his bag. He reached inside and pulled out the map.

"Feeling better?" Albus asked as James tapped the map with his wand and began to survey it for teachers.

"Yeah." James picked up his bag. "Let's go." As they walked along the deserted corridor, checking the map occasionally for teachers, he added, "Good suggestion on your part. How are you feeling?"

Albus thought about it for a minute. "Better than I did two hours ago," he admitted.

When they got back to the common room, the only people still in it were Rose and Roxanne, who were sitting on the couch directly in front of the fireplace. They looked up when the two boys climbed through the portrait hole.

"Feeling better?" Rose asked.

James and Albus both collapsed into two of the armchairs by the fireplace. "Why are you still awake?" Albus asked.

"Because we still have work to do," Roxanne said irritably. She had a book balanced on the arm of the chair and was making notations in the margins with her quill. _"I_ have seven N.E.W.T.s to pass."

"At least you already have a couple offers from Quidditch teams," Albus pointed out. "And you've got the joke shop."

Roxanne jerked her head up and scowled at him. "And _what_ do you think I'm going to do _afterwards?"_ she snapped. "I can't get hit with bludgers forever, and I might decide I don't _want_ to play Quidditch or do the joke shop after all."

"You need to calm down," James told her, fishing a chocolate frog out of his bag and tossing it to her.

She caught the frog and slumped back. "I _know,"_ she said unhappily. "It's just this stupid atmosphere. Everyone's so _serious_ all the time. It's contagious. And it makes me cranky." She put the frog to the side and turned back to her book.

"Roxanne." Rose was staring at her. "Eat the damned frog. You'll feel better."

Roxanne gave her a disgusted look but unwrapped the package and broke off a piece of the frog. As she chewed, she held up the card and examined it. "Merlin," she said once she'd swallowed. "Oh well."

As Roxanne finished her chocolate frog, James rubbed his eyes. "I should go to sleep," he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'm exhausted."

"See you in the morning." Albus put his head back and closed his eyes. "I could go to sleep right here."

"That'll just hurt your neck," Rose pointed out.

James heard Albus say "True," before he closed the door to his dormitory and fell into bed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the awful delay. I've been editing "Curiosity is not a sin" for ; I'd originally thought that I'd just tighten up a couple things here and there, but have ended up changing scenes, extending scenes, and adding new scenes, so it's been more time-consuming than I thought.**

**I'm trying to finish up a Victoire story so I can submit it to the queue on HP fanfiction, because there's a banner I really, really want to get before somebody else claims it, but I should have the next James chapter done in the next week or two.**

**Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait, and as always, I would really appreciate any reviews. They help motivate me to get the next chapter out.**

**That said, I _never_ want any of my readers to feel obligated in any way. Whether you choose to review or not, thanks for reading!**

** - Beeezie **


	5. Countdown: 38 days

As it transpired, Noah was more than happy to switch Slytherin's Quidditch practice, but from what Fred was willing to tell them, they might as well have not bothered.

"Look, you guys, I really am sorry," Fred said for the sixth or seventh time. James, Albus, Roxanne, and Rose were crowded around him on the back platform of the Hogsmeade branch of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, which was typically used to market the newest products, but strength in numbers did not appear to be helping here: Fred was refusing to budge. "I know you're curious, and I'd honestly like to tell you."

"So do it," his sister snapped.

"Just because I'd like to doesn't mean I can. It's part of being an adult, Rox."

Roxanne shot him a dirty look from her place on the floor. She seemed to be taking her brother's refusal to share any information very personally. Either he didn't notice or pretended not to; James suspected it was the latter.

"James will just tell me anyway, once he joins," she muttered.

Fred shrugged. "Well, that will be James's choice. I'm still not telling you." She sniffed dismissively, and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, grow up, Roxanne. Unless you want to change your mind about Quidditch, you'll have to get used to not knowing these sorts of things."

"James will – "

Her brother talked over her. He had clearly begun to lose his patience. "No, see, that's the thing. James won't." Her eyes flashed, which was never a good sign, but he did not appear to be bothered by the impending outburst. "What do you think, Roxanne? That Vic tells me everything? She doesn't, and I'm just as happy that way."

"Well, then, why do you always know why she's in St. Mungo's?"

Fred crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Well, if you'd bother to think about it for a minute, you'd probably figure out the answer all by yourself."

She shot him an especially dirty look, and when it didn't seem to work, she shifted her gaze to the floor.

James was hesitant to get in the middle of a sibling spat, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What do you mean?"

Fred glanced over at him. James tried to keep his annoyance at not being told what was going on off his face, and after a moment, Fred sighed. "V tells me things that it's important for me to know. That's it. If she's ended up in St. Mungo's long enough for you lot to be told about, it's usually because it was a big deal. Teddy's the only one who really hears a lot about it. I don't know everything the D.C.B. does by a long shot, and I don't want to know, either."

"Aren't you curious?" Rose asked.

Fred considered the question for a minute. "A little," he admitted after a moment. "Yeah. But if I really wanted to spend my worrying about all of that, I'd have joined up myself. I didn't, because I don't want life to be serious and life-or-death all the time." He hesitated, and then said, "Look, Roxanne – "

She got to her feet and stomped out without letting him finish.

He sighed.

There was no way any of them could have competed with Roxanne's dramatics, and none of them even bothered to try. Albus and Rose said goodbye rather sheepishly and slunk toward the door, leaving James and Fred alone.

"I – er – sorry," James said, though he wasn't really quite sure what he was apologising for. He might not be throwing a temper tantrum like Roxanne, but he was still plenty annoyed with Fred for refusing to share the information he had, or even give them a hint.

Fred shrugged. "You'll learn." With that enigmatic statement, he jerked his head toward the door. "Get going. You don't want to be caught out of bounds this late."

"Yeah. Right." He hurried toward the door so he could catch the others.

"Well, that was a complete waste of time." Roxanne had not regained her good temper; if anything, she was more annoyed. "Stupid Fred. He's just..."

Words seemed to fail her, and she threw up her hands. They were beginning to near the Shrieking Shack, and James glanced around. There didn't appear to be anyone out and about, despite the fact that it was a pleasantly warm evening.

"Come on," he muttered. "Let's just get back to school."

The walk back seemed to calm his cousin down a little; by the time the were nearing the school, she had begun to take part in the conversation Albus and Rose were having about Quidditch standings, which he was just as happy for.

Fred's throwaway comment about Teddy hearing about Victoire's job had stuck with him, for some reason. It wasn't that it didn't make sense – it did. It made a lot of sense.

But when he stopped to think about it, he wasn't sure that Marion – whatever she said about wanting to be told the truth – could actually handle that. In fact, he was fairly sure that she couldn't.

And that was a problem.

He liked Marion. A lot. He wasn't really ready to end his relationship with her. At the same time, he definitely wasn't willing to give up his dreams for her, and the more he learned about it all – even if a lot of it was smoke and mirrors at this point, he could read around the edges enough to get the gist of it – the more he was starting to feel like being with her would involve a lot of sacrifices in how he dealt with his post-Hogwarts life, and he didn't much fancy the idea of having to keep quiet about work.

Especially since, as Fred had alluded to, there really was good reason to be able to talk about it with someone. It wasn't really something James had ever considered before, but now that he thought about it, frequent life-or-death situations probably could be a bit wearing on a person. It wasn't that he didn't have other people he could talk to, especially with Victoire in the department, but... it seemed somehow counter-productive to have to tiptoe around how he said things so as not to upset his girlfriend.

That wasn't a life he wanted. When he tried to picture it, he felt an undercurrent of impatience and annoyance at the very concept.

Which probably wasn't a good sign.

"Hey, James!"

He looked up. He hadn't noticed it, but he'd begun to lag behind the others; they'd already reached the end of the passage, and he was still a good ways back.

He picked up the pace, and as he approached, Rose said, "I guess Roxanne was the only one fuming over Fred, huh?"

James forced a smile. "What, you're not?"

Rose grinned, and both girls turned their attention toward the opening. Albus, on the other hand, gave James a puzzled look, but when James shrugged, he turned away.

James had hoped that a good night's sleep would improve his outlook a little, but a fitful night of tossing and turning only made it worse. On the other hand, the need to get some sleep before starting his homework did allow him to duck both Roxanne and Marion that afternoon. When he woke up, the sun had dipped lower in the sky and through his cracked dormitory door, he could hear most of his fellow Gryffindors heading down to dinner.

His stomach rumbled, but he was feeling avoidant enough that he was wiling to put up with it. Instead, he pulled a book and some parchment out of his bag, some biscuits out of his drawer, and got to work on a Potions essay.

He was still at it when his brother knocked on the door almost an hour later.

"You weren't at dinner."

"No. I wasn't hungry." Thankfully, his stomach did not choose that moment to betray him, but Albus seemed to know that he was lying, anyway. He closed the door behind him and settled on the edge of James's bed.

"Well, I got you a sandwich in case you changed your mind." He tossed James a slightly squished sandwich wrapped in paper. "What's really wrong?"

"Why don't you ask Bridget out?" James shot back, and was immediately a little ashamed of himself for what had really been a very cheap shot.

To his surprise, however, Albus didn't budge. "Nice try."

James felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Sorry." Albus raised his eyebrows, and James put his parchment and quill aside. "I don't know. Nothing."

"Try again."

"Fine. Marion."

"What about her?"

James slumped back onto his pillows. "You know."

Albus sighed. "Yeah, I guess I do. What brought this on, though? I thought you were working it out."

James shrugged. "Define working it out."

"Not breaking up."

"Oh. Then no. Not really." James made a face. "Fuck, Al, I don't know. I just feel like I might be putting off the inevitable. I like her. A lot. But..."

He trailed off. He was already regretting sharing this much; knowing Albus, a lecture about love conquering all would be coming.

His brother surprised him, however. "What brought this on? Something Fred said?"

"Yeah. Kind of. He mentioned that Teddy knew everything that was going on with Victoire at work, and I started thinking – "

"Never a good thing." James grinned despite himself. "Go on."

"You're an arse sometimes, you know that?" Albus shrugged. "Oh, fine. So I started thinking, and I don't think she'd like me talking about everything very much. Not really, not the way I want to. And I already feel like I'm walking on eggshells phrasing everything in a way that won't upset her, and..." He let out a disgusted sound. "I don't know. I love her, but I don't want to be miserable."

"Do you really thinking that having to talk about your job a little more tactfully would make you miserable?" James looked at his brother sharply, and Albus held up his hands. "James, it's an honest question."

"Oh." James thought about it for a moment. "Well – yeah. Kind of. I shouldn't have to pretend not to be myself." He glanced over at his brother, who suddenly seemed to be concentrating on keeping his expression very neutral. "What?"

Albus cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, relationships are supposed to be about compromise, right?"

Jame slumped back against his pillows. "Never mind, Al."

"No," his brother said, kicking off his shoes and then crossing his legs on the bed. "I mean, maybe I don't know anything, being as I haven't had a girlfriend – "

"No, but I bet Bridget would – "

"Shut up. Like I was saying, maybe I'm just being thick or something, but it seems to me that if relationships are supposed to be about compromise and you can't compromise, you probably shouldn't be in a relationship."

James let that sink in for a moment. "So, wait – you're not going to tell me to find a way to make it work?"

Albus shrugged. "If it's not important enough to compromise about, that's kind of your answer right there, isn't it?" James looked away, and he heard his brother sigh. "You can't have it both ways, James."

"I know." He fell back onto his pillows and made a face at the canopy hanging over his bed. "I know."

After a moment, he heard his brother get up and leave, but he stayed in place, staring up at the sleeping lion on his canopy, for a very long time.

Part of the trouble was that even having made up his mind (he thought he had, anyway), he really had no idea how to broach the subject. It seemed a little rude to use "It's not me, it's you," to the girl you'd been going out with for well over a year, and he was pretty sure that she would find, "It's not you, it's me," to be completely unforgivable – and whatever else was happening between them, they were friends, and he was pretty sure he wanted it to stay that way.

In the end, he had more than enough time to think about it, though it didn't do him much good – he spent so much energy avoiding her so he didn't have to figure out how to deal with the entire thing that he didn't really spend any time figuring out how one went about ending a relationship that had been going on for this long.

After spending two days feigning illness, which included canceling a Quidditch practice and spending far too much time in his dormitory (or his brother's, when he thought that either she or Roxanne would come looking for him), he decided that it was probably safe to go to the library – nobody would ever think to look for him there, and he was becoming very, very tired of his dormitory.

Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on the fact that other people, Marion included, actually spent time in the library sometimes of their own volition, and he'd no sooner tossed his books onto a free table and slumped into one of the chairs when he heard her voice.

"James?"

He started so violently that he knocked one of his books to the floor, where his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend retrieved it. "Oh. I – uh – hi."

She studied him for a minute. "Can I sit down?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Sure."

She slid into the seat across from him and studied his face for a minute. "This is it, isn't it."

He looked away from her, wishing that he was anywhere but there. Even a manticore's stomach might have been preferable.

James had never been good with this sort of thing. He could give out good advice – or at least, he thought he could, and Rose always told him that he did – but when it came to dealing with his own problems, he tended to take their cousin Dominique's approach: if you avoided any problem for long enough, it would eventually go away.

It did not, however, look like that was going to be an option here.

"I - " Her eyebrows shot up, and he swallowed hard. "Yes."

"I thought so." He looked down at the table to avoid looking at her face. "What the _hell,_ James."

He glanced up and immediately regretted it. Her lips were pursed together, and there was a very dangerous look in her eyes.

He looked down again.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"No, not about breaking up. About being a complete arse while you do it."

"Technically, you're breaking up with me."

"Technically, you've been avoiding me until I did it because you're too much of a coward to do it yourself."

His head snapped up. "I am _not_ a coward."

Some fifth-years sitting a few tables over shushed him. He glared at them until they turned back to their books.

"No? Then why didn't you have the guts to just tell me that this wasn't working out?"

"Because. Look, this isn't easy for me, either."

There was a long silence, and then she said, in a tone that was dripping with irritation and condescension, "Poor baby."

He was rather hoping at this point that she would get up and stomp away, as he was making rather a mess of this, but he had no such luck.

"I deserve better than this, James. Especially from _you._"

"I know."

She regarded him for another minute before sliding her chair back. "You are an arse, James Potter. I'm probably well rid of you."

He winced as she turned on her heel and stalked away. Being left alone was not as comforting as he'd hoped, especially since she was wearing a pair of trousers that showed off _her_ arse as she retreated across the library quite nicely.

He slumped down in his chair. None of this was his _fault._

After a few minutes, he became aware of the glances the table of fifth-years were sending his way. Rather than be a freak show for some kids studying for their O.W.L.s, he decided that the library really wasn't the best place for him to be just then and headed outside.

When he got to the lake, he found one of his yearmates already sitting there.

"Hey, Bridge." He plopped himself down beside her. "Mind if I join you?"

She glanced over at him. "Go ahead," she said, but her mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Are you?" He looked over at her, and she smiled. "I heard Marion was planning to break up with you today."

"You know, that would be a really awful way for me to find out if she hadn't already done it."

"Yeah, but your face makes it pretty obvious that she did." Bridget hesitated for a moment. "You know, you're probably better off."

"Oh?"

She sighed. "Yeah. Relationships are tough, especially when you're like us. Just find someone in Dragon Research or the Aurors or something. You'll probably be happier."

"Volunteering?"

She let out a loud snort, and he grinned. "Yeah, sure, James. Because I'm crazy enough to volunteer to deal with you in a relationship after living with your girlfriend for two years."

"Oh, come on. I'm charming. And – er – well, I'm sure I have other great traits."

"I'll believe them when I see them."

"Ouch." He nudged her. "No, seriously, what's wrong with you? You look all serious. It's weird."

"I don't know." Her eyes flicked over to him, and then back to the serene, quiet surface of the lake. "There's – oh, it's stupid. Forget about it."

"No, tell me." His curiosity was piqued, and this was a perfect diversion from the conversation with Marion, which had been very unpleasant. Then he'd bumped into Roxanne when he'd gone back to the Common Room to drop off his books, and while he suspected that she had been trying to comfort him, she'd only ended up making him feel worse.

Bridget picked up a stone and threw it into the lake. "I don't know. There's this guy I've been getting to know better recently, and I _think_ he's interested in me, and I'm pretty sure I'm interested in him."

"So what's the problem?"

She sighed. "The timing, mostly. I'm done at the end of this year and I'll be joining the Aurors, assuming I don't bomb my N.E.W.T.s. I'll be really busy, and at any rate, he'll still be at Hogwarts for another year, so it's not even as though we can get together on the weekends when I _do_ have the time."

"Oh. That is inconvenient, isn't it?"

"Mm."

"Just so we're clear, we're talking about Albus, right?"

Bridget sighed. "Yes, James. We're talking about Albus. And as I said, if you tell him, I'll kill you."

He snorted. "You really should talk to him."

"Probably."

James considered pressing the point further, but decided to let it go. He'd bother his brother about it later, but it didn't see very sporting to bother Bridget, especially when she had other things to think about and it really was something Albus should be taking some kind of lead on, anyway.

"He is a pretty decent bloke, though," James said after a minute.

"And you're not biased at all."

"Doesn't make it not true."

"I suppose not."

* * *

><p><em>AN: As always, reviews are loved and appreciated! For anyone who follows my Rose/Scorpius story, I'm very sorry for the delay in updating it - RL has been crazy and stressful recently, and I haven't had much free time. That should change by June, though. :)_


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